Conspiracy Theory
by Yel Ashaya
Summary: Before Data was a celebrated commander and android pioneer on the Federation's flagship, Enterprise, he was a simple cadet learning the ropes at the Academy. This follows him and his teenage friends as they attempt to prove themselves worthy of Starfleet. Before they know it, they discover and must solve a conspiracy theory involving Starfleet and the Romulan Empire. Complete!
1. The Discovery of Data

**A/N: It's probably been a good full year since I last posted a story. This one has been in the works for about four years, and it's my third long fic to focus on Data. This one covers Data's first year at Starfleet Academy, the obstacles that he faced and the friendships that he made. Be prepared for action, romance, prejudice and thrills! As always, I'd really appreciate feedback!**

 **Disclaimer: Star Trek (except my OCs) is not mine**

 **February 2338, Omicron Theta**

They peered closer, closer still. What were they seeing? It defied all known science, all common sense, but a dead planet now had life.

"Captain?"

He turned around and looked at his second in command. Perhaps the whole crew was as bewildered, as fascinated, as confused as he himself was.

"Yes, Commander?" Captain Montgomery allowed. "What is your opinion?"

"Surely we aren't going down there?" she started, a look of uncertainty and anxiety falling over her face.

"We have to, Lewis," he said decidedly.

"I know, Sir," she agreed reluctantly. "But this planet... it should not be here."

He could not ignore the foreboding that her tone carried. "I understand your worry, Commander," he said finally. "But we have a duty to do, we have an oath to Starfleet."

"I know that, Sir." She sighed. "However, this is dangerous. Perhaps we should wait for reinforcements?" She hoped for the answer that she wanted.

He seemed to consider it, but in the end shook his head. "There might not be time enough to wait for back up," he explained. "Whatever this signal is, we have to investigate it. We are a science vessel."

She nodded then."Of course, Sir."

"Lewis?" he began firmly. "I am sure that your anxiety is unwarranted. After all, it could very easily be nothing."

Curtly, she nodded her understanding, her acceptance, but she did not want to yield completely. But he was her captain and she could not disobey her superior officer. She could state her opinion, as she had done, but not go against his ruling.

The Captain spread his hands on his knees and nodded to the officer at the Conn. "Enhance scanners," he ordered, about to order an away team to be sent but having changed his mind when being confronted with Commander Lewis' unsure look.

Science officer Johnson obeyed his captain and the ship's state of the art scanners began doing their job.

"Can you put it onto the viewscreen?" Captain Montgomery asked.

Johnson nodded and soon the view of those on the bridge was replaced with a collage of read-outs and maps and diagrams and graphs.

"That looks odd," he observed, a slight frown creasing his brow. "That graph, zoom in on it."

Johnson did so and the image of the graph was larger and more clear.

"Why, sir," Ensign Richards noted. "It looks like a homing beacon."

"It does give off all the specialised signals," the Captain added. "Very regular pattern, no blips or spikes in the readings. Are we sure that it's not faulty?"

"No, sir, I don't think so," Johnson answered. "I checked the scanning systems only yesterday and they were in tiptop shape."

"I do not doubt your ability," the Captain affirmed.

"Perhaps it is a computer of some sort?" Richards suggested. "It gives off all the trademark signals of such. I mean, there is even a slight amount of radiation being emitted. More so than organic material does."

"I'll second that," Johnson said. "There are no signs of respiration, no photosynthesis either. It cannot be organic."

"We can stand around and guess all day," Captain Montgomery said decidedly. "But it will get us no further than if we did nothing." He paused, then gave his crew a quick cursory look. "Lewis, take an away team to the surface."

"Sir, are you sure?" she asked, but she knew that the first officer was supposed to accompany and lead away missions. The captain's life could not be risked. So she set aside her anguish and worry and nodded. "Of course, Captain," she agreed. "Johnson, Vaal, Rogers, you're with me."

Then the science officer, the Vulcan and the second in command of Tactical Operations were relieved of their positions and left the bridge with Commander Lewis.

As Captain Montgomery sat back in his chair, a wave of regret and uncertainty washed over him. The away team rode the turbolift and ended up on level seventeen, where the transporter room was.

The _USS Tripoli_ was not a particularly big ship and so only had the one transporter room.

When her comrades had joined her on the transporter pads, Lewis gave an order and a nod to the transporter chief. They were sent down to the surface of the planet with nothing but their commbadges, their phasers and their tricorders.

When they had materialised as brilliant flashes of blue light, they checked their equipment.

Lieutenant Johnson glanced over at Lieutenant Rogers and smiled grimly. "At least our scanners were right about the atmosphere."

She nodded warily. "Yes, but it's barely M-Class here. What exactly happened here?"

Johnson shrugged and pondered that over before casting his gaze over to the Commander. "Commander, how can we be sure that... it's gone?"

"That what's gone?" she repeated, holding her tricorder aloft and ready.

"The Crystalline Entity," he replied. "How can we that it isn't hiding?"

She resisted the urge to smile. "I wouldn't worry if I were you, Lieutenant. The Crystalline Entity gives off such a massive power signature, we would have to notice it. It cannot be hiding." She said it to reassure herself as well as him.

Lieutenant Rogers was giggling by the time Johnson got back to her. "Hiding!" She laughed.

He folded his arms defensively. "It's not too far-fetched."

She gave him a wry look.

"It's not," he repeated. "The ground here is utterly white, as is the Crystalline Entity."

"Commander!" the deep voice of the Vulcan officer Vaal called, ricocheting through the cavernous landscape of Omicron Theta.

Commander Lewis adjusted her tricorder then ran over to the Vulcan ensign. "Yes, Ensign, what is it?"

He showed her his tricorder readings. "I do not know what is happening to it," he admitted, the slightest look of confusion on his face.

She took the tricorder and studied it. She called over science officer Johnson.

He jogged over and took a look at the dodgy tricorder for himself. "It's almost as if it's magnetising and demagnetising," he muttered. "But hundreds of times a minute."

"What could do this?" Lieutenant Rogers asked, having caught up with them.

Vaal shook his head. "I would say that the Crystalline Entity's effect on this planet is still not complete."

"I see," Lewis conceded.

"Just look at the flowers," Rogers said, pointing to shrivelled, ice-cold plants. "Or rather, the lack of flowers."

"It's as if the life has been drained out of them," Lewis said.

Johnson paled at the thought. "Where are all the people?" He didn't even want to think of what the answers could be. "I know they're dead, but some have gotten out."

"Really? Who?" Rogers asked him.

"There was a famous scientist," it was Lewis who replied. "He was called Dr Soong. He lived here and then fled when the Crystalline Entity came to this planet. Well, people say that he died, but I don't buy it for one minute. A fellow as clever as him would find a way out."

Meanwhile, Vaal had wandered off and had detached himself from the group. "My tricorder is working now," he shouted back.

The rest of them looked at theirs and sighed sighs of relief. Theirs were working fine too.

He waved to them and they came over. "I think," he began slowly. "The signal that we saw is coming from over here."

Lewis frowned. "It can't be," she sighed. "We had a fix on it when we came down. It originated due East, not West."

"I wish I could say that this is a faulty reading, Commander," Vaal said solemnly. "But I do not think it is."

Rogers nodded slowly. "Hmm. My tricorder says the same as yours." She showed it to the group.

"As does mine," Johnson said.

Lewis thought a moment. "Then we head due West," she said decidedly.

They marched on, slipping every now and then on the almost polar ground. The planet seemed dead, it was dead, for all intents and purposes, but they had a signal. And that signal was coming from somewhere.

As they continued with their jaunt, Rogers started to pay less attention. She yelped and slipped on the ice, falling flat on her face. The crew turned around, roused by her shout.

Johnson went over to her. He was a science officer, not in the medical field, but he knew enough to be of some assistance. He took out his tricorder, hoping that it still worked, then changed it to medical mode. He waved it over his fallen comrade and studied the read-outs.

"You've sprained your ankle," he told her.

She winced as she was helped to her feet by him. "That tricorder must be faulty. It can't just be a sprain." She gave him her tricorder to use.

He shook his head. "Nope. Still just a sprain."

"Lieutenant," Lewis began. "Are you well enough to continue? Do you need to be beamed back?"

"I'm quite all right, Commander, thank you," she said softly. "I am sure I can keep up."

"Good," Commander Lewis said. She and Vaal went on ahead a bit, with Johnson helping Rogers behind them.

Then Vaal bent down and waved his tricorder at something. Lewis took out her phaser just in case.

"It appears to be some sort of door," he observed.

By that time, Johnson and the wounded Rogers had caught up, with the latter resting on a boulder.

Lewis stepped forward. "A door?"

Vaal nodded. "Yes. This whole scenery here seems to be artificial."

Lewis took some tricorder readings. "Yes, it's metal. Aluminium."

"But this section," he said, standing up, pointing out a two by two metre wide part of the wall. "Is thinner. Still aluminium by composition, but not as strong."

"So it is," she said, taking a look at Vaal's readings.

"How do we open it?" Johnson asked. "If anyone's going to build a massive metal complex, they're probably going to have a security code or something."

Vaal considered and continued scanning the complex. He looked at the scans. "I do not think that phaser blasts could penetrate the walls. However, as Lieutenant Johnson said, there must be a password or encryption."

Lewis pondered this. "Any idea of what it could look like?"

Vaal shook his head.

"Hey! Over here!" Rogers called. They looked over at her. "I don't think we will have to think of a code. There is a window, up there." She pointed.

"Very observant, Lieutenant," Lewis said with a smile.

"But the window is quite high up, probably nigh on ten feet," Johnson said, rubbing his chin. "Wait a moment. Vaal, can you give me a leg up?"

He looked confused. "A leg what?"

"Yes," Lewis said in agreement. "What a good idea. Johnson, carry on with your plan, if Ensign Vaal is compliant."

Vaal gave a discreet bow.

"Well, Vaal, Vulcans are much stronger than humans, right?" he asked, to which Vaal nodded. "If you could boost me up, so that I am tall enough, I could probably get in through that window."

"Of course," Vaal consented.

"I'm still not sure about this," Lewis said. "It could be dangerous. We do not know what that signal is."

"There is no other way we could get in there," Johnson said. "We don't know the code, we don't even know where the keypad is. The door could be opened from the inside."

She nodded uncertainly. "Be careful."

He took a deep breath then was hoisted up by Ensign Vaal, who seemed to show no signs of buckling under his weight.

Johnson took out his phaser. "It looks like its been quadruple glazed," he shouted down to then.

"Can you break it?" Lewis asked.

He took out his phaser and struck the glass with the butt of it. It made a dent but glass had weaknesses, so he kept at it. After a time, cracks appeared, which then shattered. He leant back and then peered in through the aperture.

"It looks ordinary," he said to them. "Like a lab, a science laboratory."

"Can you make out what could be the source of the signal?" Lewis called up.

"No, nothing. No lights or sounds. The tricorder still reads something," he replied. "Wait, there's a table not far from the window. I could jump."

"No, Lieutenant," Lewis said. "I can't have two injured crewmen."

"It's really not that far," Johnson argued. "Probably a couple of feet, no more."

She sighed and rubbed her temples. "All right, Lieutenant."

Delicately, Johnson released himself from Vaal and swung his legs over the narrow window, ducking his head. The room was rather dark, but the broken window let some light in.

He gauged his jump and landed on the table. He regained his balance then hopped off the table.

Lewis pressed her commbadge. "Lieutenant, are you all right?" she asked.

No reply.

"Johnson?" she repeated.

No reply.

"Lieutenant?" she called, trying to project her voice to the window.

He dusted his uniform off. "I'm fine, Commander. Communication is difficult here."

"What do you see?" she called back.

He hunted around the room and found a light switch. He pressed it and the lights flickered on.

"Nothing unusual," he shouted back. "But this is all quite advanced. I mean, for its time."

"Can you open this door?" she asked.

"Wait, I've found a computer," he said. "I might be able to command the door to be opened." He sat down at the desk and typed in commands and waited for responses. At least it's in English, he thought.

He tried a few more moves, a few more calculations, then the computer beeped. The doors shifted and opened like garage doors.

On the outside, they had heard the doors opening and approached the entrance.

"The computer system is pretty standard," Johnson told them. "I think I have managed to get it to not start any booby traps."

"Well done," Lewis said with a smile.

"But I still cannot find the signal's source," Johnson said with a frown.

"I think I can," Vaal said as he gestured to a corner of the room.

Lewis went over to him and to the corner.

"Careful, Commander," Rogers warned.

Lewis stepped daintily. She looked at the large storage unit before her. It was a box, titanium lined and two metres tall.

Johnson approached her. "What is it? A bomb?"

"I am detecting no telltale signatures of the sort," Vaal said. "No excess radiation or plasma or explosives."

Johnson frowned and reached up to touch the box. He withdrew his hand instantly.

"What is it?" Lewis asked.

"It's cold," he said, looking at his wounded hand. "Freezing."

Then came a whooshing sound and the lights brightened. A computer monitor came to life and a mechanised voice started blaring warnings.

"It is a bomb," Johnson breathed.

"It can't be," Lewis muttered.

The casing of the box started to slide open, water vapour poured out of it. It opened fully.

They stepped back, aghast.

When the fog had cleared, Lewis waved the others back but stepped forward herself.

She didn't need to take out her tricorder. All that she needed to know was in front of her.

She reached out and touched what was in the box, ignoring the stone cold feel.

"It can't be," Rogers breathed. His eyes were transfixed on the ice-cold figure sleeping in what he would have called a coffin. It was human - or at least made to look human. But it could not be living. Surely it was not a robot, an android?

Vaal even looked vaguely surprised.

Johnson's mouth was wide open. "Sir," he began slowly. "What do we do?"

"We take it out," Lewis said decidedly.

So the away team came together and lowered the figure out of the box, its weight too great for just one of them to bear.

"This is magnificent," Lewis observed, scanning the lifeless, frozen, pale body.

"How do we know it isn't dangerous?" Johnson asked.

"We don't," Lewis replied. "But it's giving out no heat so it must be... off, whatever it is."

"Then let's get it out," Johnson said.

They dragged the body out and into the open.

"I wonder if the commbadges will work," Lewis pondered. She pressed hers and smiled. "All good," she said to her comrades.


	2. Beginnings

**2341, Starfleet Academy, San Francisco**

He took in the sight. Beautiful. Or at least it would have been beautiful, at least he would have called it beautiful, but he could not. He could not label it so nor could he label anything else so. Humans could, aliens could, holograms could, but not he, not what he was.

So he settled for a description that he deemed proper. Functional. Adequate. As expected. He shook his head in a reflection of confusion and stepped out of the taxi. Drawing up his suitcase, he detected something different in the air, a feeling, a sense, a reading.

He thanked the driver, as he had been told to do, then lifted his suitcase and walked indifferently along the pier. He tried to take in all the different aspects of the atmosphere, but there were so many of them. New sensations and smells and scenery.

The bridge was bright red, painted the same glossy colour for hundreds of years. It had been a staple of the location for centuries and was recognised across the world, across the galaxy even.

Just in front of the horizon was the building that he had waited so long to see. The building that he had read about and heard about, but never actually seen for himself. So he padded on and on and finally reached his destination. Starfleet Academy.

Above his head numerous shuttlecraft flew to and fro, of both human and alien origin, shunting passengers from place to place. He lifted his head up to appreciate the spectacle before being ushered to the gates by some guards.

Dressed in Starfleet's red uniform, they seemed a little stupefied by his appearance and his being there but their training took hold of then.

"Name?" one of them asked.

"Data," he said firmly, neutrally.

The guards looked at each other. "Second name?"

Data seemed taken aback. "I only have the one."

"Origin?" the other guard enquired.

"I was constructed on the M-Class planetoid Omicron Theta, third in line from the Omicron star in the Omicron system," he said neutrally, his pitch and tone the same throughout. "I was found a year and seventeen days ago by Commander Lewis of the Starfleet exploration vessel Tripoli."

Taking advantage of the pause, the guard jumped in. "Sir, do you have a serial number?"

Data's eyes flicked back and forth. "Seven-niner-niner-tango-charlie-zero-zero."

The guard's eyes drifted down to his padd, which he regarded steadily for a time. "Ok, then," he said idly. "You are on the system."

"Take the door on your right," the other guard added. "There is an atrium where all new recruits meet."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Data said coolly. "But I have uploaded the blueprint of this institution to my neural net."

With that, he picked up his suitcase again, leaving the perplexed and slightly stupefied guards, then went on his way. As they had said, he went through the door and found himself in a large indoor courtyard, flanked by numerous electronic devices and noticeboards and posters. There were also photographs and holograms of many alien planets and surfaces, the majority of which were made up of phenomena in the Sol System. Data noted the Great Red Spot, a storm that was still ravaging Jupiter's surface after six hundred years. He also noted Enceladus' Tiger Stripes and the Carl Sagan Memorial Station on Mars.

Then his attention was taken when a high ranking Starfleet officer, whom Data perceived to be an admiral, came onto the stage in the far end of the room.

Data craned his neck, oblivious of the strange looks he was getting from the hundreds of other cadets in the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, androgynous species," the admiral spoke loudly and clearly. "It is my pleasure to greet you as successful Starfleet applicants. We have hundreds of thousands of applicants from across the galaxy each year and only a few are successful. You are those few." He took a look around the room, his attention distracted for a moment for the peculiarly pale gentleman in the background. "This is not an easy undertaking, three years of intense training and teaching, rigorous physical assessments and tests. But you were chosen because you have the greatest of potentials. Listen to instructions and obey the rules, but socialise and enjoy your time here, for it is my belief that all of you will graduate and be assigned to some of the best ships in this galaxy." He bowed his head, received praise, stayed behind to talk a bit with some of the hopeful recruits.

After an hour or so, most of the cadets had vacated the atrium and were getting to know the ropes of the place.

The majority of them were trying to find their dorm rooms and were subsequently unpacking their things. All of the dormitories in the Academy were shared ones, two single beds, with a couple of wardrobes and drawers, and a computer terminal.

Data however, was not yet ready to investigate his dorm room. He was busying himself with learning about the vast number of Starfleet facts in the universe. The average distance that an Orion-Class ship could do. The energy efficiency of the twenty-third century vessel USS Enterprise. The ratio of male to female, human to alien employees of Starfleet.

To learn all of these facts, Data did not have to find them in the databases, nor did he have to look them up in a book or ask for them. He had them already in his mind, in his positronic brain.

There was an influx of students in the hallway where he was. He stood to the side, but still was not out of the way.

Dozens of overenthusiastic students came pouring through the doors and were pushing their way past him.

"Excuse me!" "Watch it!" "After you." Data heard quite a few remarks, both pleasant and not so. Nevertheless, he tried his best to steer clear.

One cadet seemed to not be paying that much attention, for he turned around to share a joke with his friend, then when he turned back, he was confronted with Data.

He stumbled backwards, having impacted quite hard. He reached up and massaged his bruised nose.

"I am sorry, sir," Data said politely, wondering what he could do to fix the issue.

The cadet stepped back and frowned. He rubbed his nose and made a face. "What are you? That shouldn't have hurt so much."

Data felt a relay in his neural net tell him something, but before he could translate it, the unfortunately clumsy cadet had returned to his friend, moaning about his injury.

Data traced his dark hair through the crowd until it was gone. When the students had left, he breathed a metaphorical sigh of relief and decided that it would be best if he lay low for a while. He knew that most, if not all, of the cadets had never seen anything quite like him before. Ignorance could be dangerous.

So he left the balcony and checked where he assigned quarters were. Having found what he wanted, he proceeded to the nearest lift. Again, he found himself on the receiving end of more than a few inquiring looks, but he simply gave the curious cadets a curt nod, waited for them to state their wanted floor number to the lift's computer, then did the same himself.

His was the last floor to be visited. He stepped off the lift and made his way to the proper room. He held his identification card to the sensor outside the door. The door opened and he went in.

He saw two beds and the rest of the standard cadet furniture, grey and white in colour.

"Hello," Data said genially, stepping in with his case.

The cadet lifted his head up and frowned at Data. He rubbed his chin and studied him. "Hi," he said quietly. He stood up. "Charles." He held out his hand.

Data registered the gesture and shook his hand. "I am Data."

"Data, eh?" Charles muttered. "Strange name. Where are you from?"

"Omicron Theta," he replied. "But my father was human."

Charles nodded. "Uh huh. I'm human, too." He grinned. "As you can probably guess. You know, Data, you don't really look human."

Data cocked his head and regarded him. "In what way?" he asked.

"Well, your skin for one," Charles began. "It's far too pale."

"Hmm," Data thought. "My father did approximate my appearance to that of humans."

Charles frowned and carried on with his unpacking. "Approximate, eh?" He laughed. "Sounds a bit eugenicsy to me."

"I see," Data said. "I think you misunderstand. I am not human, per se."

"Then what are you?" Charles asked. "Genetically engineered?"

"No," Data said bluntly. "I am an android."

Charles almost choked. "Android? No way! You are too human."

Data took that as a compliment. "Thank you, sir."

"Sir?" Charles repeated. "We're the same rank. Well, lack of rank."

Data nodded slowly. "Ah. It is inappropriate to address you as such. I apologise."

"There's no need to apologise," Charles said. He tucked some shoes under his bed. "So, how old are you?"

"Five," Data replied. "And yourself? I am sorry if I seem rude. I understand that it is rude to ask someone their age for humans, but this rule usually applies in old age."

Charles laughed. "Twenty-one," he said. "Oldest of four."

"Are you the only one of your siblings enrolling in Starfleet?" Data asked.

He shook his head. "No. My sister has, too. I don't know where she's got to though." He gestured to the door. "I'm sure she can't be far anyhow. I could probably find her."

Data gave a programmed smile of gratitude. "Thank you, sir- Charles, but I will have to busy myself with unpacking and otherwise preparing myself for life as a cadet."

Charles raised a subtle eyebrow but let it slide. "Of course." He slapped his thighs and stood up, stretching. "I'm going to go to the mess hall and see of I can find any of my mates."

Data nodded curtly. "I will try to finish this as quickly as possible, then all of my attention will be undivided."

Charles waved him goodbye then set off down the corridor, only to return mere moments late with a frown on his face. "You don't know where the mess hall is, do you?"

In thought, Data's eyes flicked from left to right. "Ah," he said. "Floor five. I believe the door is appropriately labelled."

"Thanks, Data," Charles said, before slipping off down the hallway.

As Data unpacked in the steady silence, he picked out a number of items. As an android, he had no clothes, no real possessions. Androids could not be sentimental. All he had brought with him were various uniforms, instruction manuals and computer tablets, as well as a few spare components to be used in case he suffered a malfunction. He set these things aside in his drawers, then hung the uniforms neatly in the wardrobe beside his bed.

Charles meanwhile had managed to find the mess hall, not without getting off the turbolift at the wrong floor. He was at present talking to a cadet called Joel, whom he had known at school.

"Never would have guessed," Joel sighed, smiling. "Me in Starfleet. It's mad, isn't it?"

Charles laughed and drank his drink. "No, I wouldn't call it mad."

Joel rolled his eyes. "How about crazy? Unbelievable?"

"Oh dear, Joel," Charles said, shaking his head. "You really need to learn to not put yourself down so much."

"I'm not, Charles," Joel said. "It's just such a shock. I never believed that my application would be successful. Wow."

"Let us just hope that you can stay in," Charles said with a grin.

"Good evening," a detached voice said pleasantly.

They turned around.

"Data, hi," Charles said, motioning him over.

Data hobbled over and held out his hand for Joel to shake. "Pleased to meet you."

Joel cast an unsure gaze at Charles. "What is this?" he whispered.

Charles took him aside. "Come on, Joel. He is my roommate."

"Really?" Joel raised an eyebrow. "Roommate? He is rather pale."

"I am an android," Data interjected.

"Of course you are," Joel said sarcastically.

"No, sir, you misunderstand. I am an android." Data waited for a reply.

"He looks more human than you," Charles chided Joel.

Joel elbowed him. He accepted Data's offer of a handshake. "Pleased to meet you."


	3. Roomies

Charlestossed and turned in his bed. He moaned and changed his sleeping position a million times. Finally, he gave up and lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, watching the lights and shadows dance and mingle. He blew air through his lips and sighed.

"Sir, can you not sleep?"

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, anxiety and confusion suddenly overwhelming him. "Who's there?" He blinked in the poor light.

"Charles, are you feeling well?" Data asked, a crease in his brow.

Charles rubbed his neck and sighed. "Oh, sorry. It's just, well, you know... I forgot that you were here. You know, at home, I had a room to myself so it's just weird to know that I have to share with someone now."

Data nodded slowly. "I see. I understand. I hope you can get back to sleep now."

Charles groaned and got back into position, yawned and closed his eyes. "Yeah, night, Data."

Four hours later, it was daylight and Charles had had the best sleep that could be expected.

"Did you sleep well?" Data asked him.

Charles nodded waveringly. "Pretty well." He stretched and yawned. "It's rather early, though."

"Yes," Data conceded. "But regulations do state that all cadets have to be up and ready by oh-seven-hundred in the morning for training."

Charles moaned and slapped his head. "Seven?" He frowned. "I had better have a shower."

He took a towel and his uniform and went to the cubicle, emerging ten minutes later.

Data was sat at the simple desk in the corner of the room. He turned to Charles. "It is oh-six-forty-five," he told him.

"Thanks, Data," Charles said gratefully, studying his appearance in the mirror, trying to keep an unruly strand of hair in place. "Hey, you won't tell anyone about me waking up in the night, will you?"

Confusion crossed Data's face. "I was under the impression that that sort of behaviour is to be expected when one sleeps in an unknown location for the first time."

"It is," Charles said bluntly. "But not with grown men, especially not those hoping to get into Starfleet. I'd be awful in battle." He smiled grimly. "You ready?"

Data stood up and nodded. "I have been ready for quite a while."

Charles nodded slowly. "Of course you have," he said with a wry smile.

They left their quarters then and went to their first lesson, after having had another quick introductory assembly. Charles tried to wipe the continual mentions of honour and confidence and servitude from his mind but he could not.

"I guess you're wanting to be a science officer too?" Charles asked Data as they made their way through the corridors.

"Indeed," Data replied. "Science has always fascinated me."

"But what about Command or Security?" Charles asked.

Data gave it consideration. "Regarding Command, I am not sure that organic officers will be able to cope with taking orders from a synthetic organism, such as myself. Regarding Security, I am many times stronger than a human. For that reason I would not want to put detainees at risk. It is unlikely that this would happen as my sub-routines and protocols clearly forbid the allowance of a living creature to come to harm." Data paused.

"You have Asimov blocks?" Charles enquired of him, peering closer, as if he would be able to see for himself.

Data nodded. "Yes. All three. They are a vital part of my operations."

"That's reassuring," Charles said with a smirk.

"And you yourself," Data began. "What made you choose Science?"

Charles shrugged. "My mother is a doctor, my father an engineer. I suppose it runs in the family. My sister has Science in mind too."

"Well, I believe this is the correct facility," Data observed, pointing to a room to their left.

He let Charles go first, remembering etiquette.

The room was large and glossy, the air was fresh and the walls were white.

It looked rather like a lecture theatre.

Charles chose two adjoining seats. He sat down and Data sat beside him. As they did so, three cadets in the row in front of them turned around.

"What do we have here?" the center one chided.

Charles rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming.

"Come on then, pale face," he said with a smirk. "You ever seen the sun? You look ill." His voice was filled with a Texan twang.

"I am an android," Data said bluntly.

"An android?" another of them scoffed.

Data nodded. "Yes."

One of the cadets leant over to who was, for all intents and purposes, the ringleader. "Don't you remember, we all had that debriefing about equality and all that crap?"

The centre one elbowed his friend, hissing.

"Tell me, android," the third one said. "What do you think you're doing here? We're here to learn."

"As am I."

"No." He shook his head. "Androids don't learn. You're a machine. Machines do not learn." He laughed and exchanged mischievous looks with his friends. "This is a farce. Jeez, a computer wanting to learn."

"Quiet over there," the woman at the front of the room called, whom Charles assumed to be the teacher. "Name?"

The ringleader turned around reluctantly. "Hendricks," he muttered.

"Hendricks?" She pursed her lips and typed something into a tablet. "I do not want to have to remember your name. What is the problem?"

"Ma'am," Hendricks said. "What is an android doing here?"

"Trying to learn like the rest of the class, I expect," she replied. "Now be quiet and we can get on with this."

The cadet murmured and settled back in his seat.

Charles looked over at Data. "Wow," he muttered. "I had no idea that Starfleet Academy was going to be exactly like high school."

"Now, for your first lesson as members of the Starfleet community," the teacher began. "Some preliminary work on the maintenance of fusion reactors."

She picked up her tablet and showed it to the class. "All of the material you need should be on these. You each have one. They are expensive and the best of their kind. If you break or lose them you have to fix them with your allowance."

Murmurs of worry came over the room.

"I'll leave you to get to know the devices for a few minutes, then, you have an hour to become acquainted with the nuclear reactions inside a cold fusion reactor." She watched the class for a while and then set about other work.

Charles buried his head in reports and schematics and diagrams on the subject. After a while, he looked up. "Data, what are you doing?"

"I am researching fusion reactors," Data replied simply.

"How? Where's your tablet?" Charles asked, confused.

"Like he needs a tablet," he heard cadet Hendricks murmur.

"Be quiet, Hendricks," Charles quipped.

"Did I say that you could talk to me?" Hendricks hissed.

Charles thought about saying something else, but he knew that he would disturb the class, probably get put on report and have to deal with Hendricks and his cronies for the rest of his life. So he stayed quiet.

"Now," the teacher began solemnly. "Who can summaries the main workings of a fusion reactor?" She cast her gaze over the room.

"Bennil, isn't it?" She looked at a young Betazoid in the front row.

The boy gathered his thoughts. "Well, a fusion reactor uses a series of controlled nuclear reactions. The process is simple: A radioactive element is bombarded with millions of subatomic particles called neutrons. When the neutron and the element combine, the element splits into a daughter element. This is radioactive. The-"

He was cut off by the teacher. "I'll stop you there. That was fission. I wanted fusion."

Bennil went bright red and frowned. Then he tried to read about what he had been asked.

"Anyone else?" she asked. She nodded to Data.

"Of course, Ma'am," he said politely. "Nuclear fusion is the joining of to atomic nuclei. It is massively more powerful than fission and as such had only been utilised as an energy source after fission. It is extremely energetic and even a microgram of mass can produced megatons of power. In Earth's mid-twentieth-century, during the Second World War, many testing with fusion bombs were carried out."

Charles leant over to him. "I think she just wanted you to explain how they work."

"Ah," Data said. "For example, an atom of Hydrogen and a Hydrogen isotope can join to form a new form of Hydrogen."

"Relevant example," the teacher said. "Now, next is nuclear fission, but Bennil can explain that to us."

Having recovered from his humiliation, the Betazoid youth cleared his throat and repeated his previous speech.

Another hour passed and their lecture was finished.

"What do you have next?" Charles asked Data as they filed out.

Data checked his timetable. "Further computing."

"Do you really need to go to that?" Charles mocked.

"I suppose, sir, it would be similar to a human having to go to biology classes," Data proposed.

Charles shrugged. "I guess you're right. Anyway, I've got self defence." He gave Data a mock karate chop to the shoulder, though the humour was obviously lost on him.

They parted ways and Data found his computing room, a small compound with minimal light, so as to allow the screens to be more contrasted.

Data found himself looking at a board on one of the walls. It was a timeline. It started with the abacus in the Ancient Middle East of Earth, climbing to the emergence of astronomy by the Greeks and Egyptians in the third and fourth centuries before Christ. During the Renaissance and the Regency Period, he noted the advances, with the printing press, the increased industrialisation of manufacturing methods, then he came to a section on John Napier and Charles Babbage. He read it then went on to the nineteen-hundreds, coming across Alan Turing. In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, there were parts about the invention of humanoid robots and the almost universal use of robots in the factories of the world.

Then the door slid open and Data found a seat. The room was not particularly full; further computing was a course that only a few cadets had gotten onto.

The professor was one of Earth's foremost minds on computing, who had held the Lucasian chair at Cambridge University as Isaac Newton and Stephen Hawking had.

Charles was trying not to wince as he lined up outside the door for his self defence classes. He tried not to groan as the door opened and they were let in.

He tapped his feet and looked around the padded room. He wished he could just try out the holosuites.

The process was done alphabetically, so he was near the beginning. He wondered why his parents had chosen to make his forename the same as his surname. The Vulcans were mainly at the back.

As those with surnames beginning with A and B were called up to be pitted against the instructor, Charles moved closer and closer to the front.

Finally, it was his turn. He swallowed and wrung his hands. "Right then," he muttered, stepping forward.

"I want you to stay calm, hold your legs a shoulder width apart. Keep your eyes on me and make your body solid," the instructor said.

Charles did his best. He managed to take a small amount of relief from the fact that the instructor was not a Klingon.

"I want you to pretend that I am a hostile intruder on your ship. I am showing no signs of cooperating. I have a phaser and you need to neutralise the threat," the instructor continued.

He gulped at the sight of the phaser, but reassured himself that it was uncharged. Probably. He held his stance as he had been taught. He and his opponent circled each other. He did not take his eye off the weapon. When he was close enough, he dove for the phaser, concentrating hard.

Him and the instructor were floundering about on the floor. He struggled to get a hold of the weapon. He finally got it within his grasp when his opponent had pinned him down.

When he had been let go, he caught his breath back.

"You are the first to take the phaser," the instructor said.

Charles tried to dig out the praise in his speech but found none.

"However you would most likely be dead had this been real," he continued. "Your moves were calculated but not understood."

"What was the proper way?" Charles asked.

"There is no proper way," was his answer.

He bowed and thanked the instructor, knowing that he would have to return tomorrow.


	4. Family and Friends

When the day's commitments were done, he could at last return to his quarters and get some sleep. When he got there, without getting lost this time, he found someone waiting outside his room.

"Lara!" he exclaimed, neglecting his volume.

She smiled and hugged him. "Sorry I didn't come sooner."

"Nonsense, it's only been a few days," he said.

"I've heard some interesting things about your roommate," she told him.

"I'm sure you have," he said grimly. "Here, come in."

He held his identification card up to the sensor and the door slid open.

Data looked up from his desk and offered a programmed smile.

"Data, this is Lara, my sister," Charles introduced her.

Data rose and shook her hand. "I am Data."

"I must say, Data," she began. "I have heard a lot about you."

"Intriguing," Data mouthed.

She looked over at Charles. "You know, it really is rather exciting, Data. I have never seen an android close up."

"You know that I am an android?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "I think the whole academy knows now. You're a bit of a celebrity."

His circuits told him that that was a compliment, so he gave a curt nod of acknowledgement.

"What's the time?" she pondered.

"Nineteen-hundred hours," Data replied quickly.

"Wow," she sighed. "Twelve hours of school. Never thought I'd have to say it." She grinned, but only Charles seemed to get her joke.

"Are you not enjoying your time here?" Data asked, confused. "I understand that humans are somewhat fickle."

She raised an eyebrow. "No, of course I am enjoying it. It is brilliant."

"Then, why-?" Data began.

"It just came as a bit of a shock," she reasoned. "All of this intensive training."

Charles nodded.

"I do not think that this is the common schedule for Starfleet recruits," Data said. "The first three weeks are usually the most vigorous."

"Only twenty more days then," Charles murmured.

"Anyway, I had better get going," Lara said. "Maybe I will see you tomorrow."

When she had gone, Data returned to his work.

"What are you studying for?" Charles asked him. He looked at Data's computer screen and grinned. "We are not doing that for months," he pointed out.

"I know, but I wish to be prepared," Data replied.

"There is being prepared and then there is... what you are doing," he opined, rolling his eyes at Data's keenness.

As the hours ticked by, it grew darker outside. Charles retired to bed but Data stayed awake.

When morning came around, Charles had managed to have a more trouble-free night's sleep than the previous night. He got up and stretched, looked at the clock and made a face. Half past five. He thought about going back to sleep but he had already stood up and was wide awake. So he made his way to the shower, dried, got dressed, sorted out his hair.

He wondered for a short while what it was that Data did in the night when most people were asleep. Did he sleep? Did he recharge?

"Data," he called to him as he combed his hair. "Do you sleep?"

Data looked up. "Sleep, sir?"

"Yes." Charles nodded. "Like humans."

Data thought for a moment. "I do not sleep as most living organisms do, no."

"Then what do you do? To get energy?" Charles asked, wondering if asking him if he recharged would be flippant.

"I organise my files, condense my data, write reports," Data replied. "But to supplement my energy resources, would be unhelpful. I have recycled energy reserves."

"So you don't need sleep?" Charles enquired.

"I can approximate sleeping patterns," he said.

"Could you do that from now on?" Charles asked, trying to sound polite.

"I could, yes," Data replied simply.

"It's just that, well, it is quite hard to sleep when I can see you stood there," Charles explained. "Anyway, I'm hungry. Let's go to the mess hall."

"I do not eat," Data said as they walked.

"Then do not eat," Charles said.

They came to the mess hall and sat down. Charles had caught sight of Lara and her friends.

"Hmm," they heard one of Lara's friends say as they sat down. "I can't think."

"Morning, ladies," Charles greeted them, drinking his coffee.

Lara glowered at him. "Hello, Charles."

Her friends greeted Charles as well, then went back to whatever they were talking about.

"I am Data," he said, smiling.

"Data?" one of the company repeated. "Oh, you're the robot."

"Android," Data corrected her.

"Oh, yes, android," she amended, with a sympathetic smile.

"So, what are you doing in our ten minutes of freedom?" Charles asked.

"Trying to think of famous scientists," Lara replied.

"Who do you want?" Charles started. "Einstein, Newton, Kepler."

"No, it's alphabetical," Holly told him, taking a bite out of her toast.

"What letter are you on?" he asked.

"A," Holly replied.

"Come to think of it," Charles began. "I can't think of any."

"If I may?" Data interjected.

They nodded and he continued. "Al-Hazen," he offered.

"Al-who?" Charles frowned.

"He was one of the foremost minds on optics," Data explained. "A fifteenth-century Indian scientist."

"Well, that's A covered," Holly said. "How about B?"

"Beau Brummell!" Lara blurted out.

"Who on Titan is he?" Holly exclaimed.

"I do not think Beau Brummell constitutes a scientist," Data observed.

Lara frowned. "He doesn't?" She drank her tea then set it down.

For the benefit of the others around the table, Data took it upon himself to explain the subject in question. "Beau Brummell was a nineteenth-century fashion icon, if you will. He pioneered the wearing of trousers, as opposed to breeches, bymen and was a close friend of Great Britain's King George the Fourth."

"See, he pioneered the wearing of trousers," Lara said defensively.

"Okay then," Charles interjected, worrying that he was going a bit mad."C is next."

"Charles Darwin?" Holly suggested.

"Last names," Lara specified.

"Oh, well, we can use him for D," Holly decided.

"How about Zefram Cochrane?" Charles inputted.

They all agreed on that and continued with their game, tripping up a little on X, Y and Z.

"Anyway," Charles said after their little game was over. "We'll likely be late for lessons if we don't get a move on." He picked up his leftovers on the tray, shoved it in the waste recycling unit, then stood by the door, waiting for Data.

Data ambled over, clearing up the rubbish left by lazy cadets on the way.

Charles frowned when the android came closer. "You shouldn't really be doing that," he told him.

Data looked confused; whether he was or not, Charles did not know. "I do not follow," Data let on.

"Well," Charles began, scratching his nose. "You're a cadet and they are cadets. That puts you on the same level, right?" He waited for an answer.

The tiny cogs seemed to be turning in Data's mind. "Level?"

"Feudally," Charles explained. "Status-wise."

"Your first definition would not be appropriate," Data said. "The Feudal System was most prominent in Medieval England, and it was erradicated in the fifteenth-century. However, it has been adopted by numerous civilisations, notably, the Nikazi and the Confederation of Anipion. The structure states that-"

Charles waved his hands. "I know what _feudal_ means," he exclaimed. "Go with my second definition, then."

Data nodded. "Yes, we are the same as regards status."

"Then, why did you clear up after them?" Charles asked.

"I presumed that it was the right social response to the situation," Data replied.

Charles sighed and motioned himon. "Come on, we'll be late as it is."

So they went off down the corridors, when Charles suddenly stopped. He looked at his timetable and swore. Data gave him a look.

"I don't believe it!" Charles cursed.

"Sir?" Data inquired.

Charles folded his timetable up messily and stuffed it into his pocket. "It was a D!"

"Sir?" Data held out his hand. "May I?"

Charles handed him the creased paper.

"I presume you are referring to this?" Data asked, pointing to a grid on the timetable.

Charles nodded and moaned. "It was a D, not an O."

"You are meant to be in the da Vinci room, not the Oppenheimer room?" Data pointed out.

Charles took the paper back and groaned. "Off I go then. I take it you're heading in the right direction?"

"Yes," Data confirmed. "Oppenheimer."

"I've wasted enough time as it is," Charles decided. "Floor twelve," he muttered to himself, speeding up the corridor, bumping into more than a few dazed and perturbed cadets along the way.


	5. Back to School

Charles returned to his dormitory.

"Why the long face?" he heard someone ask.

He span on his heel and smiled wryly when he saw who had asked the question.

"How's it going?" Jack asked, laughing. "You look knackered."

"I am," Charles replied.

"What's the problem?" Jack asked him.

Charles shrugged, leaning against the wall. "I read the timetable wrong."

"Don't tell me: You mistook an Mfor an P?" Jack waited expectantly, a smirk playing on his lips.

Charles shook his head. "Not quite. I thought I was meant to go to the Oppenheimer room. I was supposed to go to da Vinci."

"I guess now you know," Jack said with a smirk.

"Yeah, I suppose," Charles conceded.

"Hey, I was wondering," Jack began. "Will... you know Will, right?"

Charles frowned and tried to put a face to the name. "Will who?"

"Don't know his surname. Begins with L I think." He laughed.

"Oh, blond? Yes, I know him. Will Llewellyn," Charles said.

"Well, he's organising a party this weekend," Jack said. "I've said I'm going, but it would feel wrong if you weren't there."

"Isn't Aneela going?" Charles inquired, his tone of voice mischievous.

Jack bit his lip and looked away, aware that his face was turning red at the mention of the Orion cadet whom he had had his eye on for the past week. "Might be."

Charles' reply was a wry smile. "What sort of party?" heasked.

"Just... you know... a party," Jack replied vaguely. "Saturday. Nineteen-hundred hours."

Charles rubbed his chin. "He's been here barely a week and he feels the need to throw a party?" But then again, that was Will all over.

"It's all in line with regulation," Jack said reassuringly. "I think."

"Pfft, Will Llewellyn and regulation?" Charles fought back the urge to laugh. "How he even got into Starfleet is beyond me. A question worthy of a final exam paper."

"His father _is_ on the board of governors," Jack reminded him.

"True," Charles agreed.

"So, you up for it?" Jack asked.

Charles made a face of consideration. "Do you think... Data could come?"

"Data?" Jack repeated. "Why not?"

"Just, well, he might stand out a bit," Charles said delicately.

"That doesn't matter. If he _wants_ to... Well, wrong word. If he comes to the _reasoning_ that... You get what I mean."

Charles gave his friend a slap on the back and grinned. "Of course I'll come."

"Data?" he called as he entered the dorm. "Where are you?" He bent down and looked under the bed. "What am I doing?" he said to himself.

"I am in the bathroom," Data finally said.

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Can I, uh, come in?"

"Of course," Data consented.

Charles hesitantly opened the door and found Data staring at himself in the mirror. "What are you doing?" Charles asked.

"Investigating," came the reply.

Charles frowned. "What are you investigating?"

"Myself," Data said.

Charles swallowed. "Anyway, when you're done doing whatever it is you're doing, there's this party. I wondered if your programming would permit you to come."

Data stopped peering at the mirror. "I think that studying would be a more efficient way of spending time."

"Oh."

"However, I understand that humans require leisure activities to balance out work. Therefore, if I am to be more human, it is logical that I engage in their pasttimes."

Charles nodded and smiled but now wondered if he was right to ask Data in the first place. After all, now he supposed he had to keep Data in sight for the duration of the party.

"I've always wondered what people used to do for leisure before holosuites were invented," Charles mused.

"Did you not undergo a course in Old Earth whilst you were at school?" Data asked, as surprised as he could be.

Charles shrugged and made a face. "Sort of."

Data gave him a quizzical look.

"We did, at secondary school. But I didn't really listen," he confessed.

"Then you do not know?" Data asked.

Charles shook his head. "Uh, well, I know a little about gramophones. There's another thing called a telephone. And I guess they used parks and shops in much the same way as we did."

Data nodded in agreement.

"Oh!" Charles exclaimed. "And, uh, television. Or was it telegram?"

"They are very different things," Data confirmed.

"They are?" Charles asked.

Data nodded. "A television is, if you will, a predecessor to a holographic projector. It works by converting images recorded by an imager, such as a camera, into electrical energy, then the series of images is transmitted across the network via satellite so that other people can see the image."

Charles nodded slowly in understanding. "I knew that one. What's a telegram?"

"A telegram is a device that was used to relay messages of a visual or video origin, as opposed to audio information, which was transmitted using a telephone," Data explained. "The telegraph system was discontinued in the year 2013."

"What about the other tele-thingies?" Charles enquired.

"You wish to know when they were discontinued?" Data asked. Charles nodded. Data searched his databases. "The telephone is still in use; indeed, its abilities soon branched to the transmission of visual messages, in the early twenty-first century."

"And the television is still in use," Data continued. "Though solely on Earth. A communications satellite system was set up when the first base was erected on the Moon in 2035, but it soon fell out of use."

"And a gramophone?"

"In simple terms, it was a method of relaying sounds," Data said. "A vinyl disc would be placed on a platform and a needle would dip into the grooves in the disc. The gramophone had a large dish, to enable the sound waves to escape."

"Sounds strange. Here, let's have a look on the computer." He sat at the desk and called up a file on the gramophone, he read it and then turned the machine off. "Looks rather odd, too." He smiled. "Have you thought about what you're going to wear to the party?"

Data shook his head. "It is days away. I have not considered clothing yet."

"I have," he laughed. "And, I'll have to get myself one of those gramophones."

"From where?"

Charles shrugged. "Someone must have one. I'll have a look." He got up and stretched. "Hey, that television. It sounds quite good. I might see if I can find any records of it." He went back to the computer and had a look. "Ah, yes." He came across a timeline, from its invention in 1926 by John Logie Baird, to colour broadcasting in 1953, 3D pictures in the 2000s and 4D in 2018. "I wonder why it halted there," Charles pondered, then he came across a link connecting to hologramatic technology. The use of it as a method of relaying broadcasts was first used in 2025. With the outbreak of World War Three, it all but ceased, then holograms subjugated their television predecessor.

He shut down the computer and made his way to the bathroom. "I'm going to turn in, I think."

He returned, with his teeth brushed, his hair combed. Then he clambered into bed and closed his eyes. He noticed that Data had heeded his words and was feigning sleep, as opposed to organising his files.

As morning came, a bird cawed outside, the sunlight streamed in. Charles rolled over and yelped when he fell out of the bed.

Data was awoken from his rest by the sound. "Charles?"

Charles got up and untangled himself from the duvet, huffing. He changed into his cadet's uniform, then went to the canteen with Data.

"I really need to get used to getting up early," Charles muttered. "I barely even had time to sort out my hair."

"Your hair appears to be the same today as it did yesterday," Data observed.

Charles blew air through his lips and he and Data joined the breakfast queue.

He looked inquisitively at the slop on his plate and they found a place.

"There appears to be a greater number of people in here than usual," Data commented.

Charles nodded and ate his food, gulping it down with water. His feeling sorry for himself was stopped short when he saw Hendricks and his heavy mob saunter into the room. Silence fell in the canteen, bar a few nervous murmurs.

Charles kept his head low but swore when he saw the gang come over to him. Over to Data, to be precise.

"That's _my_ seat," Hendricks hissed, looking down at Data.

"Cadets are not assigned seats in the canteen," Data said bluntly.

"Leave him alone, Hendricks," Charles muttered, looking up at his smug face.

"Was I talking to you?" Hendricks snarled. He looked over at his henchmen. "Jimmy, was I talking to him?"

The boy named Jimmy shook his head and smirked.

"What do you think, Attal?" He looked at his other henchman, a Betazoid.

 _"He_ thinks you were talking to him," he said, a wicked grin on his face.

"Well, that's quite rude, isn't it?" Hendricks sniggered. "Speaking when not being spoken to."

Charles realised that the whole of the cadet force was watching the spectacle. He swallowed. "Get lost, Hendricks. He cast his gaze over Jimmy and Attal. "Take your lackeys with you."

A muscle in Hendricks' jaw twitched. "Leave off, Charlie-Boy."

Charles stood up and rounded the table, standing a foot away from the trouble-maker. "Get lost." He stared him down.

Hendricks laughed along with his cronies.

"You heard me," Charles hissed. He tried to appear brave, to appear bigger than he was. But as he cast a glance around the canteen, he saw that all eyes were on him – even Data's – and he was unsure of what to do. Hendricks was like a mountain standing before him, ready to crush him.

"Isn't this cute?" Hendricks spat, laughing. "Little Charlie's standing up for the walking toaster."

"It's not cute and it certainly won't be pleasant if you don't leave now," Charles said angrily, his hands forming fists by his sides.

Data examined the situation. "Charles, perhaps we should move."

Charles glared at him. "No. Why should we?"

"Because he's an android. I'm a human-" Hendricks cut in.

Charles snorted. "Barely."

Hendricks narrowed his eyes. _"So..._ I should get first pick of the seats. Like a robot needs to sit down. Pfft. He can't get tired."

"Wonder if he can feel pain," Jimmy added.

Hendricks smirked. "Yes, I wonder." He looked down at Data. "Get up."

Data hesitated and stood up.

Charles watched. He caught sight of his sister in the far corner of the room. One of her friends, Holly, had taken to hiding behind a tray, apparently oblivious to the fact that food was slowly sliding off it.

Hendricks grabbed Data by the collar, hauling the android over to him. Charles overand separated them.

"Leave off," Hendricks snarled at Charles.

Charles was pulled backwards by the two henchmen. The burly Betazoid was holding his hands behind his back.

Hendricks grinned. "Now then, where were we?"

"I believe you were just about to punch me," Data said.

"That's right." With that, he brought his fist back and buried it straight in Data's face. Data did not even flinch. He simply made a face which betrayed confusion. Hendricksdrew back his handand yowled in pain. He clutched his broken wrist.

He signalled for his henchmen to follow. They did, embarrassed and anxious of what Hendricks had planned for them. Because, somehow, it had been their fault.

Data brushed down his jacket. "Intriguing," he mused.

Charles wiped his mouth and sighed, glaring at those who were staring at him. "Unbelievable," he muttered, downing his water.

"Perhaps we should go to first period," Data suggested.

"Perhaps," Charles agreed, standing up, disposing of his leftovers. The hall had fallen eerily silent in the immediate aftermath of his stand-off with Hendricks, and he could hear that his heart was still pounding.

Data wondered what to say. "Would it restore your spirits if you helped me choose my outfit for the party?"

Charles let loose a smile. "Yeah, why not. I have a free period at fourteen-hundred hours."

"As do I," Data added.


	6. Party Time

The next few days passed without many incidents; Charles managed to get up on time without falling out of bed, and they both managed to stay clear of Hendricks and his gang.

Data was stood in front of the bathroom mirror, examining his appearance again.

Charles caught sight of his roommate's strange get-up and stifled a laugh.

"What is your opinion?" Data asked him.

Charles held back his amusement and tried to give a genuine smile. "It is very... smart."

Data nodded in appreciation. "Thank you. Are you wearing that?"

Charles looked down at his own clothes, understandably not seeing anything wrong with a t-short and jeans. "Yes. Why?"

"I am curious as to why you are not wearing a tuxedo," Data replied.

Charles raised an eyebrow. "I didn't want to, uh, cramp your style, Data. You see, it would be stupid if we both wore the same thing." He waited to see if Data was convinced by his reply.

He seemed to be.

Charles chuckled quietly. Data looked like he had been plucked out of the Victorian era.

Charles gelled his hair and waited for Data to finish up.

"Where was it?" Charles asked himself. "Level five? Or was it level six?"

Data reviewed his logs. "Ah. Level five, room seventeen."

"Then, let's go," Charles said jovially. "Though I do hope this is in regulation." He understood, now, what Jack had meant when he had called him unnecessarily cautious.

They came to the venue. Charles pressed the door buzzer.

"Who is it?" the crackled voice on the other side of the door called.

Charles cleared his throat. "It's me, Will, Charles. From your Spatial Engineering Class."

"Oh, right. Come in." The door opened and Charles signalled for Data to follow him in.

Data took in the atmosphere. Everywhere he looked, people seemed to be dancing, or at least moving about. Music was blaring out from somewhere, and coupled with the contrast between the strobe lights and the dark room, Data a bit disorientated.

"Pleasant journey?" Will joked, handing them drinks.

Data thanked him politely and studied the bottle.

Charles took a swig. "This is good. It's not synthehol, is it?

"Is it heck!" Will said, shaking his head and laughing. Data stared at him; he was still reading the label of his bottle.

"I had no idea so many people would come," Charlessaid loudly, so as to speak over the music.

"I suppose it's nice to be free from studying for a while," Willsaid.

Charles cast him a wry smile. "Yeah, after only one week's work."

"If I'm honest, I thought Starfleet themselves would organise some sort of welcome party," Will muttered.

"Anyway, this looks good. Even if it's not quite Academy-sanctioned," Charles said with a laugh. "I'm going to get myself another drink. Do you want one?" He had surprised himself, drinking it all in one go.

Will declined, so Charles only got himself one.

As he did so, he looked back for Data, but he was apparentlyalready well into the party mood. Charles noted the numerous female cadets swarming around him. They took his hands and smiled when they saw his suit, as they asked him about his proceeding speed, his age, his skin colour. A few of them stood on their toes to kiss him. Charles knew that Data couldn't enjoy himself, but he still wondered what the android substitute for joy was.

"Charles, is that you?" It was Joel and Jack.

He smiled at them and gave them a mock salute. "It is indeed. How are you, gentlemen?"

Joel shrugged. "So so."

Jack grinned at him. "Good. Yourself?"

Charles nodded. "Yeah, good. This party's better than I thought it would be." He looked around. "Hey, did you find Aneela?"

Jack was silent and looked incapable of replying, so Joel took the responsibility of answering. "He did."

"And?" Charles pressed.

"And he spilt his drink on her, she swore, and left via the nearest exit."

"Oh, I am sorry, Jack," Charles said honestly, though his honesty didn't stop him from having to hold back a laugh.

"Did you bring Data?" Joel asked.

Charles pointed to where the android was. "I did indeed."

"He looks like he'shaving a good time," Joeljoked, catching sight of the female attention that Data was receiving.

"I've got a new roommate," Joel added.

"You have? Whatever happened to Billy?" Charles asked.

"He decided to call it quits," Joel replied. "Yeah, so I'm sharing with… what are they called, Jack? Oh, yeah, _Aneela."_

Jack groaned and swore at his friend.

Joel patted him on the back. "I'm only kidding. It's not Aneela." He thenseemed aware of a presence beside him. "Anyway, this is Seb," he introduced the young man next to him.

"Hi, there," the man extended his hand.

Charles shook it. "And you."

"Another human?" Seb joked.

Charles smiled. "It's weird, isn't it? Every week there's a new species being discovered."

Seb looked at his glass. "You may be right. I saw the most amusing sight last Thursday. A Klingon playing cricket!"

Charles laughed. "Was he any good?"

"It was a girl," Seb corrected with a smile. "And yes, she was rather good."

"I wish I had been there," Charles said with a smile on his lips.

Joel exchanged a look with Jack. "We're just going to go to the bar. Did you want anything?"

Seb shook his head, as did Charles.

"So...when did you get here?" Charles asked Sebastian, as the pair of them sat down together on a couch.

He considered. "Oh, I haven't been here long. Probably ten minutes before you."

"I got a bit held up," Charles admitted. "See, I couldn't remember which floor it was."

"I'm always doing that," Seb added. "Forgetting where I am. I mean, the timetables are printed rather badly."

Charles nodded. "I'll drink to that." He raised his bottle and took a swig. "Since when does a D look like an O?"

"Only at Starfleet Academy," Seb said with a smirk. "Are you a first year, then?"

Charles laughed. "Can you tell?"

Seb smiled wryly. "I was just judging from that incident in the canteen."

Charles paled. "Oh, that. I guess you have to be quite foolish to stand up to Mac Hendricks." Had he been talking to anyone else, he might have attempted to play the macho man, to come out with some spiel about how determined he had been to hold down Hendricks. But he found that he couldn't quite do that while talking to Seb.

"No," Seb countered. "I thought it was rather brave." He shifted his position.

"You saw it all?" Charles asked, embarrassed.

Seb nodded slowly. "When Hendricks wasn't punching the android, yes."

"Oh God," Charles muttered. "But Hendricks does irritate me. He thinks he's so high and mighty."

Seb finished his drink. "Tell me about it." He sighed. "It's ridiculous, how someone like him got into Starfleet. I mean, I've been here a year already, and I've never come across bigger jerk than him."

"Probably best not to think about it," Charles suggested.

"Have you had any other encounters with him?" Seb asked him, his eyes watching Charles' face intently.

Charles smiled grimly. "Many a run-in, none pleasant. He's even got a nickname for me."

Seb looked down at his drink for a moment, before finishing it off. "I'm yet to have that pleasure." He cleared his throat, aware of the silence that was resting between them.

"I'll introduce you to Data when he gets left alone," Charles said, raising an eyebrow at the android in the distance, who was being cornered by many a beautiful female cadet. "I suppose I should be jealous."

Seb laughed and then sobered, bringing his eyes up so that they were level with Charles'. "I don't think you should be jealous," he said quietly, almost intimately.

It was strange. At that moment, it seemed as though they were alone in the room, as if there wasn't any one else around them. Without even thinking, Charles leant forward, hesitated, then took Sebastian's face in his hand and kissed him. "I'm sorry," he suddenly said, abruptly pulling back.

But Seb looked hurt. "Why are you apologising?"

Charles touched his lips momentarily. He took a quick look around the room, looking like a startled rabbit. He looked down at his drink, stupidly wondering what was in it.

"I wasn't expecting that to happen, that's all," Charles said quietly.

"Is that a bad thing or a good thing?" Seb asked, having composed himself.

Charles shrugged and then a grin spread across his face. "I don't see how it could be bad." Then he leant forward and their lips met again, this time stronger and with more conviction.

Charles looked out of the corner of his eye and saw Jack and Joel standing by the refreshments.

"It's taking them a rather long time to get a drink," Seb observed.

Charles looked over at him and smiled. "Come on, let's go and see them."

"I have a sneaky suspicion as to why they left us two alone," Seb added.

Charles gave him a pointed look.

"Hey, Charles, Seb," Joel greeted them, a knowing look in his eyes. "Having a nice time?"

Charles exchanged glances with Seb. "Very pleasant, thank you. You're taking an awfully long time to get the drinks."

Joel was caught unawares.

Jack stepped in. "Don't be ungrateful now. Anyway, we've got the drinks. Let's go back and sit down."

"Uh, that might be a problem," Seb noted.

"What-?" Jack enquired and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, I see."

"That bastard!" Charles scowled. "How does he even have the nerve..." His eyes narrowed. He could hear gasps and murmurs, but no one was trying to help. No one was trying to help his sister. He began to step forward but he felt a restraining hand on his back. He saw Seb.

"Charles, think about this," he said calmly.

Charlesshook off his hand. "I've thought about it." He went over to his sister, his eyes overwhelmed by the scene.

Jack, Joel and Seb stood behind him.

"Is he always like this?" Sebastian asked.

They shrugged. "He loves his sister a lot, you know. He hates Hendricks. Whenever he sees them together his sanity disappears."

"Are she and him..." Seb drained off.

Joel shook his head vigorously. "No, no, no. Hendricks thinks they are."

Hendricks, meanwhile, was continuing his conquest.

"Your brother's a jerk, you know that?" He slurred, hiccuping between his words.

Lara scoffed and tried to turn away.

"Always pushing you around," he continued. "You're your own woman, you know that? Stand up to him."

"Stand up to him?" She almost laughed. "I'd sooner stand up to you. Which, incidentally, is what I am going to do now."

He smirked, not taking her seriously.

She pushed him back and tried to walk away. "Leave me alone."

But he pushed her back.

She tried to concentrate, but the music was so loud and there were so many people.

Charles was on his way, amidst the noise and the darkness; she could see him.

"I bet he's on his way now," Hendricks muttered. "Or maybe that android fellow is." A grin crept across his face. "My betting's on him."

She rolled her eyes. "What makes you think that you can bad-mouth everyone?"

He reached out and stroked her hair. "Now, I'm not being unpleasant, so neither should you."

She squirmed and resisted the temptation to whimper.

"You like that android?" he asked. "He's not a man." He scoffed. "He's a toaster on legs. Would you fancy a toaster?" He shook his head and sighed, laughing. "Come on, you want a real man."

"What, like you?" she chided.

"You're catching on," he said slyly.

She slapped him.

He stepped back and winced, rubbing his wounded face. His cheek was bleeding.

Just as Charles reached them, he caught sight of someone else at the scene.

"Is this gentleman bothering you?"

Lara smiled genially. "He's irritating me, yes."

"Perhaps, sir, it would be best if you vacated the premises."

Hendricks scoffed. "Perhaps, sir," he mimicked. "It would be best if you kept your nose out of other people's business."

"This young lady appears to be distressed, sir. Now, please, leave her be."

Charles watched the scene unfold.

"I don't think so," Hendricks argued, bringing his arm back, propelling it forward. He howled in pain when Data caught his fist and held it behind his back, the action lightning fast.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" Data saidcalmly.

Hendricks murmured a curse word, then shook his arm free, collected his henchmen, who were moaning about having to leave so soon, then left.

"Thanks, Data," Lara said, smiling. "Hendricks can be such an idiot."

Data processed the insult and nodded. "Indeed. Are you well enough to be left alone?"

She laughed sweetly. "Of course. I'm fine."

Data nodded curtly, then saw Charles and went over to him, but Charles was already hot on the heels of his sister. He took her by the shoulder.

"Lara, are you okay?" he asked her, worry etched into his face.

She took off his hand gently. "Yes, I'm fine, Charles." She gestured to Data. "And I have him to thank."

"I was on my way," he defended himself.

She folded her arms. "It's not a competition. I'm an independent woman," she found herself strangely repeating Hendricks' words. "I don't need a knight in shining armour."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I had it under control," she reasoned. She pointed to his friends. "I think your cronies are waiting for you. By the way, who's he?"

Charles frowned. "Who's who?"

"The blond one."

He blushed. "That's Seb. Why?"

"Just asking." She shrugged, looking away quickly.

But Charles knew his sister and smiled. "I think he's already taken."


	7. Lessons

When the party was over (or at least when the most sensible attendees had left) Data returned to his quarters, but he could not find Charles. When he got to the dorm room, he hunted around for his missing friend but could not find him. He wondered where he could be. Having had no luck, he decided to give up and continue his search in the morning, which would be very soon. He closed his eyes and began his imitation of sleep, having put his power source on stand by. He had had a productive session of file reorganising and had been dormant for a while when he heard a noise. He opened his eyes, imitated a yawn, waited for his systems to wake up then focused on the strange sound.

The door slid open and in crept Charles. His dark hair was on-end and mussed up, his eyes looked tired and slightly guilty and his clothes were crumpled and badly put on.

Data raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"Morning, Data," he muttered.

Data smiled. "Good morning, Charles. I trust you have had a pleasant night?"

Charles blushed. "Yes," he said tightly.

"Where have you been?" Data asked.

Charles winced and thought about an explanation. "I'll tell you later. Look, I'm going to have a shower. It's not late, is it?" He looked at the clock. "Half-six, not too bad." He made for the bathroom and leapt into the shower.

Data nodded curtly and tried to think of where his roommate had been that night. He decided that he would ask around, having had no luck in consulting databases on human behaviour.

Charles emerged from the shower a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around his waist. He had a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, as well as a mouthful of toothpaste. He hobbled over to the sink, rinsed, then got changed.

Data watched genially as he always did, noting down aspects of human behaviour.

"Did you miss me?" Charles joked as he combed his hair.

Data pursed his lips. "I was aware of your absence."

Charles slapped him on the back jovially and Data noted the elevation in Charles' mood.

"Anywho, let's get to lessons," Charles said decidedly.

"Are we not going to convene in the mess hall first, as usual?" Data inquired.

"I'm not hungry," Charles said with a shrug. "Besides, I have already brushed my teeth." He smiled. "Unless you wanted to go to the mess hall."

Data stood up. "Not at all. But I appreciate your concern. I believe that my first lesson is Engineering."

"What do I have?" Charles mused.

Data failed to see the rhetorical nature of the question. "His eyes flicked from left to right. I believe that you have enrolled in the First Aid class."

Charles smiled wryly. "How did you know?"

"I wirelessly downloaded the Academy's personnel files into my neural net," Data replies honestly.

Charles frowned. "You shouldn't have done that. That's illegal. Quite illegal."

"You misunderstand," Data reiterated. "I have only acquired the files relating to your timetable routine, as I understand that you are prone to forgetfulness. I have not had access to the personal details of other crew members, or indeed of yourself or my own."

Charles breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. And thanks. Which room am I in?"

Data consulted his memory. "Ah yes. The Curie Block. Room C4."

"Thanks, Data. I'll see you later." With that he left and Data followed.

Data made his way to the main Engineering lab and took a seat. In the room there was quite a commotion. He wondered for a moment if it was something to do with Hendricks' presence in the vicinity.

"This is so exciting, don't you think?" a cadet asked him.

Data frowned slightly. "Forgive me. What is happening?"

"Don't you know?" She looked astounded. "Stanley Dyas is giving his talk on hull integrity!" She squealed, her eyes full of glee.

Data nodded. "Of course. I estimate that this will be a most fruitful and groundbreaking discussion."

The room went silent as the guest arrived and everyone applauded his presence.

"Good morning, cadets," Dyas began. "I have been told that you few in this room are the cream of the crop. Don't disappoint me."

The girl sat beside Data swallowed nervously.

"Don't look so worried," the guest speaker chuckled. "I have no doubt in the ability of any of you." He clapped his hands together. "Now, today, I thought I'd show you all how to polarise a piece of hull plating in this very lab." He began to set up his equipment and the class began taking detailed diagrams of it.

"But first, can anyone tell me what the first instance of using polarised hull plating as a method of defence was?" he asked.

Every single hand went up.

He nodded to one cadet, who proudly announced, "The _NX-01 Enterprise_ in 2151."

"Yes," Dyas agreed. "With the advent of shield technology, polarising hulls of ships has become vastly unpopular. However, it carries one advantage: It does not need repairing." He looked at the class. "I am sure that you have all heard of the Warp Five Complex." His class nodded. "Now, that project was headed by Sir Anthony Bartholomew. He was my ancestor. He was the first person to publicly acknowledge the use of polarisation to strengthen spacecraft hulls."

Meanwhile, Charles had found his way to the correct room and was sat in the First Aid class. He had not chosen to do it. It was a requirement for all cadets to undergo basic medical training. He sat at his desk, breathing air through his lips and looking around.

"Is this seat taken?"

He recognised the voice and could not hide the growing blush on his face.

Seb sat down beside him. "I didn't mean to be quite so late."

"At least you're not as late as Mr _T'Lar,"_ Charles said with a wry smile.

He rubbed his eyes. "Who?"

"The teacher," Charles explained. "Vulcans, for all their logic, can't seem to get to places on time."

Just as he said that, a giant of a Vulcan stepped through the door. "I apologise, class," he said calmly. "I could not locate this area."

"Listen, Seb, about last night-"

Seb opened his mouth but quickly shut it when the teacher reprimanded them.

"Do not talk whilst your elders are talking," the Vulcan said coldly. "There is a human saying, I believe," their teacher began. "A healthy body is a healthy mind. I believe it is apt." He nodded to the class. "You each have before you a set of tools: a bandage, a thermometer, some water, as well as a padd."

He waited for the cadets to familiarise themselves with the equipment. "Now, you will access some files concerning this lesson's itinerary on your padd. You will then read and learn these files and apply them to the situations I give you."

"Why did you leave so suddenly last night?" Seb asked as they looked at their computers.

Charles put his things down and looked at Seb. "I didn't want to. I had a really nice time. But I didn't want to have to leave Data, either. He can't worry, I know that, but I think perhaps he can get lonely." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

Seb smiled. "Don't apologise, Charles. I understand. I was just curious."

"Anyway, we had better get reading," Charles said, nodding to what could have been irritation on the Vulcan's face.

"The first situation which you will have come across, had you been doing what you were supposed to be doing," he said, looking harshly at a few cadets. "Will have been a grade one plasma burn. Since this scenario is too dangerous to recreate precisely, you were asked to learn the symptoms. Exhibit them."

The class obeyed and he nodded in acceptance.

"Now, find a partner with whom you will carry out this activity."

There was a momentary commotion, but it subsided when everyone had paired up.

"Commence," T'Lar said, watching the class with dark, critical eyes.

"Do you want to be the victim or shall I?" Charles offered.

"I'll let you do the honours." Seb looked at his padd. "Right. You have just been wounded by a Klingon bat'leth."

"Severely?" Charles asked.

Seb frowned and read the article. "Yes. Your arm has been slashed. You're losing blood and consciousness very quickly."

Charles feigned light-headedness, his eyes opening and closing rapidly, his breathing heavy. He heard a few cadets howling in false pain. Some of the pained cries were definitely over-the-top, and T'lar picked up on it.

"So," Seb talked to himself. "I need to inspect the wound for any foreign objects." He stared at Charles' arm. "Then I need to disinfect the wound." He sprayed some water on Charles' arm, which stood in for the antiseptic spray. Then he scanned a dummy dermal regenerator over the affected area and bandaged it up.

Their teacher decided that five minutes was enough time and began to inspect the handiwork. He came to Charles and Seb's and nodded with approval.

"Class, this is the standard which I expect," he announced, motioning for the rest of the cadets to crowd around Charles and Seb, to see what they had done.

Then they were left to carry out the second task.

"Your comrade has fallen unconscious," Charles said aloud. "You do not yet know the reason but need to act fast. The first step is to..." He nodded and grinned. "Lie down," he ordered Seb.

"What? Now?"

Charles rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to be unconscious."

"Oh, of course." He conceded and lay down on the floor.

"Close your eyes," Charles added; Seb did so.

"It's rather cold down here," Seb muttered, trying to get comfortable.

"Unconscious people don't feel the cold," Charles reminded him. "And they certainly don't complain."

"Fair enough," Seb agreed unwillingly.

"Now, I need to get you into the recovery position," Charles mused.

Seb opened an eye. "You do?"

Charles' face reddened. "Shut up." He picked up the tablet. "Right, your arm goes... here. Your leg... here."

T'Lar saw their set-up and gave them a look of Vulcan appreciation, which was nothing more than a blank stare.

"And now?" T'Lar asked them.

Seb sat up and was about to answer but was cut off by the Vulcan.

"You are meant to be unconscious. The question was posed to your friend," he said gruffly. "Your recovery position is acceptable. Now you must try manual stimulation of the heart. Read the instructions for task three."

When they were left alone, Charles asked, "Shall we swap places?"

"It's quite comfortable here actually," Seb replied. "I'll stay being the unconscious one, I think."

Charles read through the article but kept it on hand. "Okay, I need to place my hands here..." He positioned them on Sebastian's chest. "Close your eyes. You're distracting me."

T'Lar caught sight of them and came stalking towards them. "Use the dummy. You could cause a fatal injury if you do this on a living individual."

"Yes, Sir," Charles said quickly. "Sorry, Sir." He went over to the storage container for the CPR dummies and then came back empty-handed. "There aren't any left."

T'Lar considered.

"We could try mouth-to-mouth," Seb whispered to Charles, who blushed.

He cleared his throat. "Perhaps, Sir, we could just pretend to do CPR, so that we can work on the rhythm, if not the pressure."

The Vulcan nodded slowly. "That is acceptable. Carry on."

Then the bell sounded. Charles moaned and pulled Sebastian up.

"Average performance, class," the Vulcan teacher observed, his eyes and his face neutral and dull.

"Come on, let's try and find Data. I think he has a free period next," Seb offered.

"As do I, but you've got Engineering next," Charles reminded him.

Seb grinned. "I know."

"Seb, you can't miss a lesson," Charles said seriously.

"You're right. I'll see you later?"

Charles smiled. "Sure."

So they parted ways; Seb went to attend his engineering lecture and Charles went on his hunt for Data.

"Good afternoon, Charles," Data greeted his returning roommate.

"Hey, Data," Charles said, wondering what Data was doing.

"Have you come to accomplish some further studying? the android asked.

Charles shook his head. "Sounds like a good idea. How was Engineering?"

"Highly interesting. I trust your First Aid course was equally empowering?" Data inquired.

Charles made a face. "I can't deny that I learnt something but the lecturer was about as enthusiastic as a peeled potato."

Data followed the simile.

Charles pulled up a chair beside Data and got out some work to do. It wasn't long into it when he found himself sighing and groaning and frowning.

"Are you in pain?" Data asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"What? No," Charles replied quickly. "It's just... ugh, I can't do this."

"Perhaps I can offer assistance," Data suggested.

Charles handed him the padd and Data studied it for less than half a second. "You forgot to carry the two."

Charles took the tablet back. "I did?"

"Indeed," Data confirmed. "Kardashev's constant must include all of the factors."

"Thanks, Data," Charles said, fixing his equation.

When the two of them had finished their work for the day, Data and Charles returned to their quarters.

Charles got changed, brushed his teeth, washed, then sauntered over to his bed and closed his eyes almost instantly.

"Charles?" Data started.

He moaned and opened an eye. "Yes?"

"Why are you not visiting Cadet Richards?"

"Seb? What sort of a question is that?"

Data noted Charles' tight tone. "I apologise if I have caused offence."

Charles sighed and moved to lie on his back. "Nah... You worked out where I was last night?"

"After a careful analysis of the evidence," Data added.

"What evidence? Actually, never mind."

"What was the answer to my question?" Data asked.

Charles breathed through his lips. "I don't know how to explain it to you, Data. Good night."


	8. The Revelation

"I'll see you later," Charles called as he opened the door to their dorm room.

Data gave him a curt, acknowledging nod. "I trust that you will have an agreeable time."

Charles smiled wryly. "Yeah, thanks. Hey, Data, what will you be doing today?"

"I need to run a self-diagnostic," the android replied genially.

"You don't need any help?" Charles asked. "I mean, I know it's a self-diagnostic, but, how does it work?"

Data tried to explain it in simple terms. "I need only to connect my neural net to the Academy's main computer system, whereupon I will utilise the power supply and reimburse my systems and thus allow for the detection of any anomalies."

Charles frowned slightly. "And you've asked if this is... okay?"

Data nodded calmly. "Of course. I have confronted the appropriate powers."

"All right then, I'll leave you to it," Charles decided. "See you later."

The door slid closed and Charles went to attend his lesson, catching up with his sister on the way.

"I can't believe you're still reading that," he chided.

She looked up at him, then down at her book. "Why? It's a good book."

"I mean, why can't you just download them like everyone else?" Charles reiterated, trying to guide her through the busy hallways, for Lara could not see where she was going due to being engrossed in her book.

She sighed and closed her book. "Because sometimes it's nice to actually hold, to feel, a book. I mean, you and Jack still play those... what are they called?"

He smiled at her naïveté. "Arcade machines?"

"Yes." She nodded. "They're centuries old and awfully outdated."

"I know, but they're cool," he defended.

"Why don't you just download them?" she said, mimicking his voice.

He shrugged. "Point taken. You win."

"Anyway, how's it going?"

He noted her mischievous expression. "Fine," he said shortly.

She elbowed him playfully. "Come on, Charles." She looked at him pointedly.

He harrumphed. "Yes, yes. Seb's good, too." He cleared his throat. "Now, we'll be late if we don't hurry up."

Data, meanwhile, was starting to wire himself up to the Academy's back up mainframe. He had previously undergone a thorough check of the Academy's. He went through his checklist. The two systems were compatible and his neural net could handle the high energy wave transmissions from the mainframe.

He used the bathroom mirror to see what he was doing, as the service hatch was located in the back of his head. It would be the first time that he would perform a self-diagnostic; other people always did it for him.

He did not feel nervous; he could not. But he experienced the influx of power in his neural net telling him that he needed to make sure that his diagnostic was perfect.

When at last he had finished setting everything up and was satisfied that all would be well, he sat down. He could not risk standing up because an automatic shut down would make him collapse and enter sleep mode if there was a power overload.

"Wake up," Charles hissed.

Joelblinked and lifted his head up off of his shoulders, aware that he had been drooling on the table. "I am awake."

Charles rolled his eyes. "You are now."

Joelmoaned and rubbed his eyes. "When will this lesson be over?"

"Not everyone gets to join Starfleet Academy," Charles said seriously.

"Then they're lucky," Joelmuttered.

"Come on," Charles said. "Planetary sociology is great."

"No it's not," Joelargued.

Charles sighed and shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"Anyway, how's your sister?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Lara interrupted.

Jowllooked behind him and saw Lara. He blushed.

"This week will see your first examination on Planetary Sociology," their professor was saying. "There are those of you who have performed exceptionally well in this class who will have a greater chance of being chosen for an exciting new opportunity that Headquarters have posted."

Charles leant forward, utterly intrigued.

"However, the details of this such opportunity will only be revealed to those of you whom we are certain will be going on the excursion," the professor continued.

Charles moaned. He would have to wait.

"This is so exciting, don't you think?" He turned to Joel.

He looked indifferent. "I don't like the sound of it."

"You don't know what it is yet," Charles pointed out.

"Whatever it is, it sounds dangerous."

Charles nodded. "Which means exciting," he defended himself.

Back in the dormitory, Data was halfway through his diagnosis. His eyelids were closed but his eyes were moving rapidly from side to side. His neural net was processing hundreds of billions of bits of information every second.

The process was mundane and repetitive, not that it fazed him. But his human side was soon brought out of reverie.

He heard a noise, his connection to the Academy computer mainframe was instantly stopped. His internal sensors glared warnings to him.

He turned the master alarm off and began to recognise the issue.

He narrowed his eyes, widened the bandwidth of his scanning.

"Foreign transmission detected."

Data struggled to locate the source of the warning. At last he succeeded.

His eyes still closed, he found himself confronted with a computer-generated map. A map of the Academy grounds. He recognised it instantaneously.

He considered rerouting the display from virtual to the computer console in the quarters but the risk factor outweighed the efficiency that it would bring.

The map was zoomed in on. Data recorded the route and the designation. Sector fourteen, floor two, room three.

"Relay foreign transmission?" his system asked him.

Data gave the order and a few moments of static were followed by a crude-sounding, fuzzy voice.

Data did not recognise the voice, but easily noted it as being that of an adult male. The lack of inflection and forced pronunciation told him that it was human.

 _"Lekar."_

 _"What can we do for you, Chancellor?"_

 _"Discard the pleasantries, Proconsul. I don't like you and you don't like me."_

A laugh came from one end of the conversation. _"You say that, yet you ask for my help yet again."_

The other speaker groaned and seemed to hold back a swear. _"This is the last time. You don't command me."_

 _"I think I do,"_ came the sly reply.

 _"Let's get this straight."_ He now sounded infuriated. _"What I have told you is for your ears only."_

 _"We shall see. It was your choice to betray your people."_

 _"Keep quiet, Lekar. You stand to gain no end as well."_

 _"As I have said, we shall see."_

Then the line went dead.

Data tried to comprehend the situation. He cocked his head to one side, the cogs turning in his head.

Then he heard another noise. He started. But he registered it as being the door key being entered.

"What's wrong, Data?" Seb asked as he stepped in.

Data's face displayed slight confusion. "Nothing is wrong, Sebastian," he replied simply. "Androids cannot experience emotions."

Seb nodded after a while. "I know that. You just seemed... caught out. Don't you think, Charles?"

Charles, who had been looking over Seb's shoulder, cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah, what is it, Data?"

"I would appreciate it if you two could shut the door and fully enter the room," Data said.

When they had done so, Data began to tell them what had happened.

"You aren't pulling my leg?" Charles pressed.

Data registered the euphemism, then nodded. "No. This is sincere."

"Christ," Seb exclaimed. "Can't we hear it?"

"I do not think that that would be wise," Data replied.

"I understand," Charles said quietly. "What are you going to do?"

"I have considered numerous choices," Data replied. "I do not think it wise to bring the matter forward to the powers that be."

"Neither," Seb added. "God, I just can't believe they'd do this. It's disgusting."

"I know," Charles agreed, shaking his head. "What will we do?"

"I think it would be best if you do not disclose this information to anyone else," Data said.

They both nodded sincerely.

"Charles?" a voice called over the commpanel. "It's Lara."

"Oh shit," Seb mouthed.

Charles looked over to Data. "Should I let her in?"

"To not do so would be a breach of social etiquette."

"If you say so." He opened the door.

"What's going on here?" Lara asked, being instantly hit with the sombre atmosphere in the room.

So Data told her.

Her hands to her mouth, she gasped. "Never," she mouthed.

"It is true," Data said genially.

"What will we do?" she asked all three of them.

"Beats me," Charles admitted.

"You remember what Professor Morten was talking about?" Seb turned to him.

"No," Charles said honestly; he had been listening about as attentively as Joel had been. "Oh, that."

"Oh, what?" Lara asked.

"About the Planetary Sociology examination," he explained.

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that can help."

"Perhaps it would put us in good stead if we do need to bring this to the authorities," Charles reasoned.

"Perhaps," Seb said slowly.

"Then we had better get revising," Charles said, with a slap of his thigh.

"I'm going to go back to my quarters, I think," Lara said, getting up.

"Why?" Charles followed her to the door.

"I don't want to cramp your style," she said with a smile, nodding to him and Seb.

When she had gone, when the door had closed, Charles retrieved a mountain of textbooks, his padd and signalled for Seb and Data to join him at the console.

"It's a bit late," Seb moaned.

"Twenty-onehundred is not late," Charles quipped.

"When is this exam anyway?" Seb asked.

"Two days from now."

"Charles, revising at such late notice is not an agreeable method of retaining information," Data commented.

"I got through school that way," Charles reasoned.

The day of the exam came and Charles surprised himself by getting up bright and early. He had set his alarm for half an hour earlier than usual. He neglected to have a thorough shower, instead opting for a quick wash. Having brushed his teeth and combed his tangled, wet hair, he went with Data out of the door.

"It would be advisable if you were to eat," Data said to him cautiously.

"I can't afford to eat," Charles replied simply. "I don't have time. Besides, I'm not hungry. Not much, anyway."

"Regardless, Charles-" Data began.

Charles cut him off. "The queue in the canteen will be longer than Nessie's neck and we can't afford to be late."

"Nessie?" Data repeated, obviously confused. "Who is Nessie?"

"The Scottish... Nevermind." He sighed. "Come on. Room fourteen." He sped up his pace and Data easily matched it.

The room was sheer silence. There were desks arranged in uniform columns and rows. Each had a computer console wired up to it and a chair behind it.

They had to look at a digital display on the wall nearest the door, which told them where they would sit.

"Oh brilliant," Charles groaned. "Hendricks had to be the same row as me, didn't he?"

"It would have been expected," Data said. "What with your surname beginning with G and his beginning with H."

Charles nodded. "Uh huh." He held out his hand and Data hesitated before shaking it. "Good luck."

"Luck will not..." He faded off. "To you too."

Charles gave him a wry smile, then they went to their seats.

The examination was not invigilated but governed by many a security camera and artificial intelligence.

Charles donned his headphones like all the other cadets and breathed in and out deeply.

He entered his details then read the first question. He flew through the first few problems but the paper soon caught up with him. He rubbed his temples and sighed.

 _Name three measures that should be taken when an away team transports down to an alien planet, and discuss the advantages and disadvantages of each measure._

 _Which crewmembers should form the away team? Why should the captain not accompany the away team if possible?_

He bit his lip. He had the first two sorted but the third was evading him.

He resisted the temptation to look around the room.

"Come on, Charles," he whispered to himself. He decided to give up; he could always come back to the question. He did. His strategy had worked.

Fourhours, sixessays and a lot of stress later and the examination was over.

Charles was one of the first to leave the exam hall owing to his surname. Data exited before him and the two of them convened in the hallway outside the exam hall.

"I'll catch you up, Data," he said when Data decided to return to his quarters.

Charles craned his neck over the sea of people exiting the hall. He caught sight of a blond blur and called, "Seb! How was it?"

Seb sighed and ran his fingers through his hair; he made a face. "Not great."

Charles' smile faded. "Oh. Really?"

He nodded. "I take it you found it went well?"

Charles didn't want to eclipse Seb's mood but couldn't lie either. "I suppose so. But, come on, maybe you did better than you think." He clapped a hand to his back.

Seb smiled half-heartedly. "Thanks."

"Lara, how did it go?" Charles called to his sister.

She made a face. "So so, I guess."

"Here, why don't we go to the mess hall?" Charles suggested, hoping to brighten both Seb's and Lara's moods.

They both nodded. "Sure," Seb agreed.

Lara smiled. "Sounds good."


	9. The Musketeers

Charles turned over in the bed. He adjusted his pillow, cursing Starfleet's penchant for hard, uncomfortable furniture. Again and again he changed position, lying on his side, his back. He settled there and blew air through his lips.

He sat up and hobbled over to the table, where he poured himself some water. Bringing the glass to his lips, he looked around the room. Finally, he sighed. "Data, can I talk to you?"

The android came out of hibernation, opened his eyes and nodded. "But you are talking to me now," he pointed out, looking confused.

Charles poured the rest of the water down the sink. "What I mean is... well, about that message you intercepted yesterday."

Data nodded curtly. "Of course. Does something about it worry you?"

Charles laughed weakly. "A little bit. Any thoughts on what todo?"

"There is little that we can do," Data said simply.

Charles ran his hands through his mussed hair. "You remember about that expedition, don't you?"

"For Planetary Sociology?" Data asked.

Charles nodded. "After the exam I went to the department head's office. Well, rather I was called there."

"I do not follow."

"You see," Charles continued. "He said that he wants me to go on the expedition. Turns out, I got the highest mark on the exam. And I want you to come with me."

"I do not follow."

Charles leant against the wall. "I asked if you could accompany me. See, they would not let me go alone. You have many advantages over organic beings, Data. You're stronger, cleverer, immune to almost everything."

Data considered. "I appreciate your trust in me. But there are likely other cadets better qualified than myself."

"There aren't," Charles argued. "Come on, I'm sure that you can hack into the academy's database."

"I will not break the rules," Data said simply. He paused. "I will, however, take your word to be the truth. If it is the truth, then I have no choice but to accompany you. I have been analysing your life signs, Charles. You do not appear to be lying."

Charles grinned. "The expedition is to Romulus, by the way. Data, this is a once in a lifetime - human lifetime - opportunity. They agreed. You can come with me. If you want to, that is, of course."

Though Data could not feel emotions, a sense of dread dawned on him. Romulus, its inhabitants second only to the Borg regarding their bellicosity and xenophobia. Up until this point, he had been sure that the Academy would not send them to such a dangerous place as Romulus. Something was not quite right, he decided.

Just as Charles was settling himself off to sleep again, satisfied that he was now free of those particular worries, his padd bleeped. He groaned and rested himself on one elbow. He struggled to use the device due to his sleepiness but managed to call up the internal communication logs.

He smiled at the screen. "Seb, what do you want?"

"Charming." On the monitor, Seb made a face.

"It's late. What is it? Are you okay?" Charles asked, keeping his voice down for Data's sake. Just because his roommate was an android, it didn't mean that he was undeserving of respect, Charles thought.

Seb smiled. "Yes. I'm fine. You weren't by any chance thinking about the exam yesterday were you?"

"A little bit," Charles said. "Why, were you?"

"More like dreading, but yeah." Seb rubbed the back of his neck.

"I got called to the powers that be," Charles said with a grin.

"What did they say?" Seb leant closer, before sitting up.

"They want me to go on that expedition," Charles replied.

"To where? They haven't told us the destination yet."

Charles hesitated and thought a moment. He gave in, knowing full well that he had to tell him. "Romulus," he sighed. "Not that anyone else can know. And I mean it."

Seb was quiet for a while. He rubbed his eye and frowned. _"Romulus?"_ he repeated, hoping that he had heard wrongly, but he knew it was in vain.

"Romulus," Charles said.

"And you're _going?_ Are you _mad?"_ He raised his voice, unaware of his loudness. He looked over and saw his roommate glower at him in the bed across the room. Seb mouthed an apology and the disgruntled cadet rolled over with a groan.

"I have to, Seb. I can't deny them. I got chosen."

"It's too dangerous. It's preposterous. And anyway, of _course_ you can say 'no'. They can't make you go."

"I thought I could count on you for support," Charles said tightly, sounding hurt.

"You can. Of course you can." He sighed. "I just… I just don't want you to get into any trouble. You could get captured or interrogated or..."

"Data will be coming with me," Charles added, hoping it would calm Seb's nerves.

"That's something, I guess," he said half-heartedly. "When are you going?"

Charles shrugged. "No idea. Soon I expect."

"Tell me before you go," he said quietly.

"Of course I will," Charles said softly, smiling. "I'm not going anywhere without saying goodbye."

"See you tomorrow, then," Seb said with a grin.

Charles returned the smile and valedictory, before turning the computer off, rolling over in bed and closing his eyes.

Morning dawned and Data found his mind preoccupied with a peculiarly astounding idea. He hesitated and hesitated again and again.

When Charles left the bathroom, having washes and changed, he was confronted with Data.

"What is it, Data? You look like you've seen a ghost," Charles observed, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

Data shook his head, after a slight pause. "Ghosts are merely figments of overactive imaginations, but your simile is appropriate."

"Well?" Charles prompted, with a turn of his hand.

"Ah. Charles, I have had an idea. When a person is affected deeply by another, that person fails to act to his best ability."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "What?" He sat down.

Data continued. "You are completely at liberty to report me to the appropriate authority should you feel the need, which, under the circumstances, is entirely understandable."

"You'll have to say more than that."

"I routed my positronic matrix up to the internal mainframe computer again," Data admitted.

"You did?" Charles asked, amazed that Data would even be able to do such a thing. The android possessed the technical knowledge to do it, but Charles had been unsure whether Data had the conviction. "When? Why?"

"Which question should you like me to reply to first?" He saw that Charles was not going to respond, so he carried on. "In response to your first question, yes I did," Data said. "Secondly, the night previous. And for you last question, I did it not to further my understanding of humanity and their complex social relationship, as I had first suspected, but to better understand my friendship with you."

Charles tried to comprehend Data's words. "I still don't understand," he sighed.

"I understand that your relationship with Cadet Richards is founded on love and mutual respect," Data began.

Charles closed his gormless mouth, a frown crossing his face for a split second. "Uh...what does any of this have to do with Seb and I?"

"I have only been among humans for a few years, but I think that I can comprehend their need for companionship. When I was connected to to the Academy's computer system, I inadvertently came across the personal files of the cadets."

Charles tried not to look worried. "And?"

"I located the final averages for the Planetary Sociology examination. Cadet Richards' score was unwarranted and entirely reversible."

"What do you mean?" Charles asked sceptically.

"He failed to answer two pages of the paper," Data said.

"Two pages? Or two sides?" Charles waved his hand dismissively. "That doesn't matter." Then it dawned on him, the implication. He grinned. "Seb can come with us on the expedition?"

Data nodded. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

Controlling the anxiety that was now surfacing in him, Charles asked Data, "How did Seb do in questions that he did answer?"

"He achieved full marks," Data revealed. "The rest of the students taking the examination failed to gain more than 50%. All except one other individual, that is."

Charles' mind had gone blank before Data had spoken the last sentence. "Then he's worthy of the expedition, isn't he? I mean, he definitelyrevised enough... more than you and I put together."

"You believe he accidentallymissed out those respective pages?" Data asked, analysing Charles' reasoning.

Charles nodded deliberately. "Of course. He was a bag of nerves before he went into the exam. He knew all that there was to know. But he's awfully nervous, that's just how he is. I've told him that he's just being silly but it makes little difference."

"My previous questioning was superfluous to the cause," Data admitted. "It was entirely against every trait of his personality to miss out pages on purpose."

Charles jumped to his feet and hugged Data. "Thank you!" He made for the door. "For telling me."

"Where are you going?" Data inquired after him.

"To tell him!" Charles said ecstatically.

"But, Charles, do you not wish to know the identity of the other student who passed the exam?" Data began to ask, but the door had already opened and shut and Charles had left.


	10. The Chosen Ones

A week had passed, a week of hard work and exams, friendships and hardships, but it had passed nonetheless.

Charles was stood twiddling his thumbs, outside the head office. He had sat down a few minutes ago, but felt too giddy, to overwhelmed. He had sighed and got to his feet. He exhaled again, then sat back down. He closed his eyes and waited.

As soon as he had made contact with the chair, he heard someone call his name. He followed the American accent and swallowed.

"Cadet Garfield," the head called.

Charles stood to attention, saluting his senior. "Here, Sir." The silence was cause for Charles to think up something to say. "Sorry, I think I might be a bit late. I did set my alarm..."

Admiral Tuckersmiled softly. "You're not late, cadet. Come to my office." He gestured his hand and Charles followed.

Charles' eyes widened when he entered the room. There were four chairs. Two of them were occupied. Lara. Seb. He frowned, worried, concerned, but a little relieved that he wasn't alone.

Seb caught his eye and smiled. Lara waved slightly, her hand barely moving.

Charles was struck by a wave of nerves when he took his seat in front of the man's desk. They know, he thought, his mood darkening. That we know. They know that Data hacked into the computer mainframe and uncovered the conspiracy. His pupils widened, his face blanched.

Admiral Tuckerwatched his worried cadet. "Garfield, this is most unlike you. Pull yourself together and prepare yourself for what I have to say."

"I'm sorry, sir," he said quickly, sincerely.

"Not to worry," he said curtly, spreading his hands on the desk before him. "As you know, you three have been selected for the Planetary Sociology experiment."

Seb looked gormless. "What?" He caught himself. "I mean, pardon, Sir? I received my test score. It wasn't good enough."

Admiral Tuckersmiled comfortably. "Your papers were re-marked. Last night, our computer system detected a foreign body."

Charles grinned. Data.

"It seems that your test score was unfairly mediated. Your final grade was more than enough to give us cause for accepting you on this mission. Does that clear up any problems?"

Seb blanched and smiled weakly. He nodded thankfully. "I suppose I had better thank what ever that foreign body was, for bringing the error to attention."

Tuckernodded. "MissGarfield," he said, looking over at Lara. "Your score was admirable. I will say one thing, though, one bit of advice: Take care with your grammar; it lost you five marks."

She blushed and nodded. "Yes, Sir. I shall try."

Next, Tuckerturned to Charles. "You scored full marks, Cadet. But there is always room for improvement."

"Sir, why is Cadet Data not with us?" Charles asked.

"As he is to join the expedition based on necessity, as opposed to performance, he will attend a meeting this afternoon."

Charles frowned. Data had never said so, but perhaps he wasn't yet made aware of the meeting.

"Sir, permission to ask a question regarding the expedition?" When she had received permission, Lara asked, "Why Romulus? I mean, out of all the possible humanitarian options, why choose that planet, those people?"

Admiral Tuckersmiled understandingly. "Without disclosing too much, I shall say that the Federation has heard nothing from the Romulan Star Empire for nearlyeighty years. They seem to have been scared off by Captain James T. Kirk's little manoeuvre almost a century ago. We have judged them a minor threat, but a threat nonetheless."

"And that's why you want us to investigate?" Charles finished. He would have bet his future Starfleet career on saying that the Academy would _never send them to Romulus._

The Admiral nodded. "Indeed. Now, to business. What you were called herefor is to make you aware of the checks and examinations that must be carried out before you disembark... medical, clerical and other such checks. To prepare you."

"Sir, when will we be going to Romulus?"

"You will not be going to Romulus," he said cryptically.

"What, you said- I was told-" Charles spluttered.

Tuckersmiled. "To investigate _Romulans,_ not _Romulus._ To go to their home planet would be far too dangerous, and you and your friend are only first year cadets. You will be going to a Romulan-owned planet."

Charles nodded slowly, taking it in. "If I may, why was it made clear that we wereto go to Romulus then, ifwe arenot?"

"To see, simply, if you were up for embarking on such a hostile mission. Call it a test."

Charles frowned. Another test. He felt cheated, but he partially understood their reasoning.

"You are booked on a transport to the Neutral Zone this coming Friday."

Charles counted down the days. It was Tuesday now. That gave them three days to prepare. Three days was hardly enough time to prepare for an exam, let alone launching oneself onto a planet owned by one of the Federation's most threatening enemies.

He continued. "Today and the days in between will be training sessions, to get you prepared for the expedition." He turned his computer screen around and Charles leant forward, squinting.

On the screen was a map of the Neutral Zone; Charles recognised the coordinates. Admiral Tuckercalled up the data file on one star in particular. Its Starfleet designation was Sigma 238, but the name that came up were the Romulan words _kilhra'eri euhre._

"I don't speak much Romulan," Charles admitted.

Lara stepped forward. "I do. Passed Foundation with flying colours."

"And Higher?" Seb asked.

She made a face. "Not so well." She studied the alien words then made a face of understanding. "It means _hidden planet."_

"Very good, Cadet," Admiral Tuckeracknowledged. "Your mission is relatively simple, but that does not mean that it will be without risk. We have people already on the inside, whohave enrolled you in a Romulan military academy on k _ilhra'eri euhre,_ and there you will observe the Romulan way of life."

"Romulan way of life… Sir?" Charles interjected, confused.

Admiral Tucker smiled briefly. "I'm glad you asked. I want you to observe how they live, how they pass their time. What is a hobby for the Romulans? How are their families arranged? What specific rituals do they have? Our hope is that once we have a better understanding of Romulan _people,_ we will be better equipped to deal with them should we encounter them again. We have been without contact for many decades now. And who knows what sorts of advancements they have made in that time. Of course, we are not assuming that they will welcome us with open arms and we can be heart friends. But… one can hope."

"We will _observe_ the Romulans?" Lara asked, and Tucker nodded. "So, we are meant to ingratiate ourselves tothem? Sort of, integrate ourselves into their society?"

"Undercover, you mean?" Seb suggested, his facial expression suddenly hopeful and excited.

Tucker gave him a short smile, amused at the cadet's drive. Then his tone of voice darkened slightly. "But what I can tell you now is what you can expect to happen in preparation for this expedition."

Unconsciously, Charles found himself swallowing heavily. Seb cast him a curious look, but he couldn't help but understand the nervousness that Charles was no doubt feeling. Lara, however, seemed as excited as anyone could be.

Admiral Tucker tapped his fingers briefly on the table; the room was so silent that the air seemed to welcome what should have been a quiet sound, and it resonated around them all. "It would be far too dangerous to have four Starfleetcadets on a Roman-owned planet." He eyed the cadets carefully, as he tried to gauge whether they were anxious or excited or a combination of both. "Therefore, you'll have to be surgically altered to appear Romulan."

"We'll need operations, sir?" Charles queried, his hand absent-mindedly reaching up to touch his face, wondering what it would look like in a few days' time. It made him shiver, as much as he tried to hide it.

The admiral nodded nonchalantly. "Nothing major, of course. A bit of synthetic skin here and there, and it should look rather impressive. Data, of course, you'll be rather easy to manage. It's just important that you remember that you'll be on a mission. A very important one, as well. Don't get carried away, because I know what it's like to be young, believe it or not." He smiled briefly. "Romulans are hostile even to their own kind – or at least who they _perceive_ to be their own kind – so be careful."


	11. Departure and Arrival

A few days later, after the medicals and psychiatric checks, they were ready to go on their mission.

"I didn't think that I'd pass that medical, if I'm honest," Seb muttered, clearing his throat and smoothing back his hair.

Charles gave him an inquisitive glance. "What? Why?"

Seb laughed and slapped Charles on the back. "I'm just kidding." Seb had considered quitting the training and preparation; he had considered going back to Admiral Tucker to say that he had changed his mind. But he did not want Charles to go by himself.

Charles rolled his eyes. "We've still got those godawful cosmetic operations to withstand, anyway," he reminded him pointedly.

Lara held out her hands; in them were three commbadges. "You might need these, guys."

Date took his first and attached it to his uniform, followed by Charles and Seb. Lara had already secured it to her person, and was intent on wearing it with pride.

"Cadets," a loud, booming voice became apparent to them. It could have filled the entire space, or, the entirety _of_ space. Data, Charles, Lara and Seb all watched coolly as the admiral came striding into the room.

"Sir," they all saluted him, at once, as was proper.

"As you were," Admiral Tucker reassured them, and their arms simultaneously dropped to their sides. "Now, all of you know why you're here. You are the best of the best when it comes to planetary sociology. And I don't want myself or any of my staff to be disappointed with what you will be achieving out there."

Charles swallowed heavily; he was almost sure that the lump in his throat was visible. His eyes wandered around the room. Two of the walls were composed entirely of glass, reinforced glass. Certainly, he had been into space before. What Starfleet cadet hadn't? But this time it would be different. He realised that Data was studying him with interest, and then he realised that the admiral was expecting his undivided attention. Charles promptly apologised.

"You will be boarding a transport soon, to take you to Spacedock," Admiral Tucker continued, his hands draped behind his back as he walked backwards and forwards across the laminate flooring. His footsteps seemed extraordinarily loud."And then you will be on your way."

"Am I to assume, Sir, that we shall them be transported to _kilhra'eri euhre?"_ It was Data who had summoned up the courage – if that was the correct term – to speak.

The admiral watched the android with studious intensity. Then he smiled genially. "The _Walsingham_ will be taking you to the your destination."

Lara's eyes widened wider than they had ever done. "I've never heard of that ship before," she admitted, racking her brains. All she could think of was that one lesson in History class when… _The Spy-Master! s_ he realised.

"You wouldn't have. It's top secret." Admiral Tucker gave the four cadets – three of whom were terrified – a gentle smile. "The four of you have nothing to worry about. You have been debriefed, examined. You have been re-debriefed and re-examined. And you are the best cadets that we could task with this mission. Coupled with the resoundingly original introduction of Cadet Data here, I expect nothing but success, discoveriesand a whole lot of praise for you all."

"Thank you, Sir," they declared proudly, happily. Their voices were slightly shaky.

He straightened his uniform. "Dismissed." And then he left.

"The transport ought to be leaving soon," Charles muttered, his fingers and thumbs interlocking nervously.

Data agreed with a swift, mechanise nod. "Then it would be unwise to not leave at this moment." He glanced at the other cadets, who all murmured in a sort of unsure agreement.

"Ooh! This is so exciting!" Lara very nearly squealed as they walked to the Academy's surface-to-air transport system. She ran off, catching up with Data, who had since adopted a speedy pace.

Lagging behind, Charles' face adopted a detached expression. Seb gained a better hold of his luggage and then approached him. "Charles, what is it?"

"I don't know. I mean, I'm excited. Of course I am..." he said, his tone of voice near silence.

Seb frowned. "But?" Then he laughed, as a mischievous grin grew in his face. "But you don't know how you'll handle seeing me as a Romulan?"

He could have laughed, he knew that. He should have laughed. But instead heshook his head and walked on, ignoring Seb's interference.

Seb shook his head and marched up beside him. "But what?" he pressed, holding out a hand so that Charles could walk on no further.

Charles looked over at him and sighed. "I guess I'm scared."

"Of what? All we need to do is get on a transport to the _Walsingham_ , then fly a shuttle to this planet. Come on, you heard what Admiral Tucker said."

He nodded glumly. "I know, I know. But this will be a first in Starfleet history. What if something goes wrong? We could get captured or tortured or killed!"

Seb planted himself in front of Charles. He looked him directly in the eyes. "We're not going to Romulus. The planet's in the Neutral Zone, sure, but it's not Romulus, is it? And besides, I'll have your back." He smiled.

Charles nodded and rubbed his temple, slowly becoming convinced that the cloud of worry in his mind was starting to clear.

"Anyway, you always seemed to excited for this trip, right? Seb reminded him, and Charles let that sink in. "It was me who was freaking out earlier."

Seb began to pick up the pace again. "Come on, we can't let Data and Lara beat us, can we?"

"And, Seb?" he called out, jogging up alongside him. "Thanks."

Seb offered him a short smile, then kissed his cheek. "Don't mention it."

They soon reached the transport vehicle. It was a bit rugged, and had no doubt seen more than its fair share of Starfleet action. But most of the Academy's crafts were a little bashed and bruised.

They had to sign their names on the register; Data's signature was a most amusing spectacle. That said, they boarded the craft, stowed their luggage safely away, and strapped themselves in. There were twelve seats in the craft, but only four were occupied. The craft was, of course, automatic, and its pilot was nothing more than a combination of circuit boards and microprocessors.

The craft lurched and the engines buzzed as it lifted itself out of the hangar; automated voices blared out numerous warnings. _Lift-off imminent. Seatbelts must be fastened._

And then they burst through the Earth's atmosphere, leaving behind the blue and white of the early morning sky, and arriving in the dark depths of space.

The trip from the troposphere to the exosphere had taken little more than a few minutes. The cadets found themselves faced with a barrage of space junk: forgotten capsules and satellites and crafts, all of which were adorned with numerous flags and mottos and logos.

Lara squinted as she stared out of the window, trying not to get in Data's way. "That's Sputnik, isn't it?"

Data broke out of his reverie, realising that she was addressing him. He studied the satellite. "Sputnik 100," he told her.

"There's been a hundred of them?"

Data's yellow eyes darted from left to right briefly as he recalled the information. "No, that specific one was launched in 2057, to celebrate the centenary of the original namesake satellite's launch."

Charles had had his eyes closed for most of the journey, and Seb could do little more than watch him curiously.

They soon escaped the exosphere and reached the orbit of the Earth's moon; on its cratered and pock-marked surface, the major Lunar bases could be seen.

The automated voice made another announcement. Its final one for the four cadets. "Earth Spacedock has been reached. The _USS Walsingham_ is docked at Port 7F."

They all disembarked.

"See, that wasn't too bad, was it?" Seb teased Charles as they collected their luggage from the holds and arrived at the orbital port.

Charles glanced up at him and frowned. "I have a feeling that was the best part."

Data, Lara, Charles and Seb found themselves in amongst a sea of people. They were mostly humans, but there were also a few aliens, particularly Vulcans. The central part of the port was certainly a very busy place, full of businessmen, warriors, shop-assistants and various Starfleet staff members.

"That one looks like T'Lar," Charles joked, and Seb grinned.

Data stopped in his tracks. He was approached by a tall man in a yellow Starfleet security uniform. Charles noted the phaser hooked on his belt. The man took out a padd and studied it for a moment. "Cadet Data? Serial number 0045-0271A2?"

Data responded with a curt nod. "That is correct, Sir."

"Cadet Charles Louis Garfield?" the man then asked, studying Charles studiously. "Serial number 0072-1273A6?"

"Yes, sir."

"Cadet Sebastian Richards? Serial number 0054-1937A7?"

Seb nodded. "That's me… sir."

"And, finally, Cadet Lara Elizabeth Garfield? Serial number 0087-1638A2?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"You have had your final medical examination, yes?" he asked all of them, regarding all of their faces.

They nodded, as was proper.

"And you were debriefed by Admiral… Tucker?" he asked, having looked it up on his padd, to double-check.

"Yes. He spoke to us earlier today," Lara replied, and the security guard nodded.

"After passing though security, you'll find the _Walsingham_ in Port 7F. It's due to depart at 1100," he told them, and then he went on his way.

"This'll be fun," Seb muttered, gesturing to the obstacle course of security measures that had been set out.

"I wonder why there's so many security things," Lara opined.

Data stepped in and led the way to the security area. "I suspect that it has something to do with the influx of Bajoran terrorists in this sector, after the recent Cardassian Occupation of Bajor."

They each had to have their eyes and fingerprints scanned, to ensure that they matched up with the Starfleet database. Data posed a bit of a problem to the security personnel, but they were too busy marvelling at him and they happily carried on their duties, though it meant a bit more work.

Data watched in nothing more than appreciation at the sight of the _Walsingham._ It certainly looked state-of-the-art. Its fuselage was saucer-shaped, as most Starfleet ships were. Data had no idea what class the ship was. It was larger than Constitution but certainly smaller than Galaxy.

"I've never seen anything like it before," Seb mouthed, staring at the ship. "It's just so sleek and shiny."

"You sound like a child," Charles chided him, a teasing smile on his lips.

"I'm glad you've cheered up."

"Come on," Lara urged them all. "Stop staring. We'll have plenty of time to have a proper look around once we're on the ship itself." She beckoned them.

After having boarded the ship, they felt the hum of its colossal engines all around them. No doubt it would calm down soon enough.

Again, there was one more final security check. But they passed it with flying colours, though some passing ensigns and lieutenants seemed curious as to what a group of cadets were doing on one of Starfleet's best crafts. They were likewise handed a padd each, on which they could find out where their quarters would be.

"We're sharing?" Lara moaned, wondering how exactly she would cope in a dorm full of men.

"Looks that way, sis," Charles said with a broad grin, ignoring Seb's glare.

"I think that it would be wise to wait until we have surveyed the quarters themselves before we make a judgement," Data opined. He led the way down the corridors, which were adorned with grey carpet and had windows stretching the entire height of the deck.

"How many decks does this ship have?" Lara asked.

"Twenty-four, it says here," Seb replied, having caught sight of a display board on the corridor wall. "With a crew of three hundred."

"And here we are," Charles announced as they reached their quarters. "I suppose I doesn't really matter if we share, does it? I mean, we're only going to be here for a day or two."

"How far is this planet, then?" Lara asked.

Data quickly replied. "Forty five point three nine light years."

The doors slid open once Data had entered the passcode.

"Wow."

"They're huge!"

Lara smiled widely. "Maybe it's just that I've gotten used to those tiny dorms at the Academy… but this is brilliant!"

As with most Starfleet ship quarters, the room was open plan, with a replicator, sanitation room and adjoining bedrooms. The walls and floor were white, with purple and blue furniture. The windows were vast and impressive, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. They gave a spectacular view; it reminded the cadets of both the marvels in space and how lonely it could be.

"How many sleeping chambers are there?" Seb asked.

Charles had a look. "Three."

Lara had already chosen hers; naturally, it was the one with the nicest view. She unpacked and them poked her head around the door. "Wait... There are only three rooms?"

"Charles, Sebastian, you may have the remaining rooms," Data offered. "I have no need for them." he raised a finger. "In fact, I presume that we have only been given three rooms because I do not require sleep."

Charles smiled wryly. "Nonsense, Data. You have this one. Seb and I can share."

Seb regarded him. "We can? I mean... sure." He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously.

Data cocked his head to one side and then made a noise of agreement. "If that is what you would prefer, then very well."

As night loomed on the great starship, Charles and Seb were the first to retire to bed. Lara and Data, however, were not quite ready to say goodbye to the day just yet.

Lara held the glass of water in her hand and stared at it emptily for a while. "Are you ready for the operation tomorrow?" she asked Data. It was conversation for the sake of conversation, really. She knew that Data would have prepared himself.

The android turned to face her. "I have researched the procedure, if that is your meaning."

She smiled and finished off her water. "Close enough."

Then a look of vague realisation seems to wash over Data's face. "Have you prepared yourself?"

She shook her head and gave a short laugh. "I've no idea how to prepare! I mean, I have a vague idea of what the operation entails. I'm going to wake up with a Romulan face." It all sounded very amusing in her head but she wondered it the real outcome would be quite as humorous.

"If you are starting to have second thoughts, I suggest you recall the many benefits that Starfleet will gain from this mission," Data opined.

Lara smiled genially at him. "You're right." Then she got to her feet, crossed to the food replicator and put the empty glass inside the machine, pressing button as she watched the synthetic object disappear.


	12. Transformations

**The room wouldn't stop spinning. Around him, lights were flashing and noises were sounding. He started to lift up, to haul his sleepy body up off of the bed, or whatever it was, but he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, and he was persuaded to lie back down. Blinking heavily and several times, the figure standing above him began to come into focus. "It's done?" he asked wearily, reaching up a hand to rub his head. It hurt.**

 **The doctor shook her head curtly and picked up a tricorder, running it over his head. "The operation is complete. Yours took a bit longer than the other ones, however..." Then she faded off, reminding herself that humans often got embarrassed, putting the medical tricorder down. "I advise you not to touch your face for the next few hours. After that, the synthetic skin should have fused sufficiently."**

 **Charles began to sit up again and cast his gaze around the white room, and it quickly dawned on him that he was in the** ** _Walsingham's_** **sickbay. "Can I have a mirror?" he asked the doctor, who waved to a nurse. A human nurse, clad in the blue of the Starfleet medical division, brought him over the requested item. He could have screamed, but that would have been ridiculous. Instead, his mouth simply hung open, gormless, and he could have caught many a fly.**

 **"** **It looks so** ** _real,"_** **he mouthed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I look like a Romulan. I** ** _am_** **a Romulan." As he looked about the room, he could have sworn that he saw the Vulcan doctor's mouth twitch slightly. But he doubted it. After all, Vulcans rarely got annoyed, and when they did, if they did, they would not show it. But he digressed. His fingers had taken to feeling the deep-set ridges along his forehead, and the pointed tips of his ears.**

 **When his eyes travelled up to the crowd of people that had gathered around his biobed, he blushed when he saw Seb standing over him. He could have sworn that Seb looked even more handsome as a Romulan. Seb laughed at him, no doubt having realised what Charles had thought. "I'm liking the green ears!"**

 **Charles made a face and then regarded his sister and Data. Lara looked small and pretty – far too demure to be a true Romulan. But he knew his sister well, and she could surely hold her own if the time came. Data was quite amusing to look at. His skin was no longer pale, and his eyes were no longer yellow. It unnerved Charles somewhat; he had gotten used to these three people looking the way they had for ages, to way they had been born, or created, and now that had all change. But seeing Data disconcerted him more so. After all, when Data looked as he usually did – with his starkly white skin and his golden eyes – he looked unhuman, unnatural. But now he seemed to be living, breathing. Data was now indistinguishable from other races, but Charles was forced to remind himself: who am I to decide that Data was never 'alive', anyway?**

 **"** **What's first on the agenda, then?" Lara asked Data as the four cadets exited the sickbay and followed the corridors to the turbolift.**

 **Data made a noise of contemplation, and Charles reminded himself that it was really the android that he had known for a few months under all of that synthetic skin and hair. "I suspect we will converse, eat and then get ready to sleep. It would be advisable to get as much rest as possible – I myself will be renewing my systems – as the** ** _Walsingham_** **will be near enough to the Neutral Zone tomorrow morning for us to disembark in a shuttle."**

 **Lara had smiled to herself when Data had dictated the cadets' future schedule. After a moment of hesitation, she reached up to touch her new hairstyle. She didn't much like it. Romulans certainly didn't have an eye for fashion, she decided. Instead of long and brown, it was cropped short with a fringe and had been dyed a darker shade of brown, closer to black than anything. Data's hair was the same shade of slick black, while Charles' dark brown hair had undergone the same change in hue as hers had. But she couldn't help grimacing when she saw how amusing Seb looked. He had kept his blond hair, of course, but it was cropped short in the Romulan-style, no longer wavy and unruly.**

 **The automated computer voice** **alerted them that the turbolift had reached the proper deck, and they soon disembarked and located their current quarters.**

 **Lara had decided against eating at first, but Data had systematically reminded her that she needed to keep up her strength, as the mission would no doubt be gruelling to biological lifeforms, as he had put it.**

 **When they had eaten, and Data had replenished his chemical nutrients, they all retired to bed. Lara lay awake for quite some time, wondering what would be in store for them all when the woke up the following morning. She was excited, intrigued. Who wouldn't be? But horrible thoughts periodically crossed her mind as she wondered what would happen if their disguises didn't quite work or if one of them let something lose. Yet worrying never worked, as she told herself firmly.**

 **Data was sat on his untouched bed, carrying out another self-diagnostic, wary that his systems needed to be without fault if he were to be at his best tomorrow. He could hear Lara talking to herself in the room next door, and contemplated whether it would be wise to pay her a visit. He looked up the necessary human behavioural situation in his systems, but decided against it. After all, she could have been talking in her sleep, and it would have been wrong to have woken her.**

 **"** **I prefer you as a Romulan," Charles said softly, looking at Seb whilst he lay awake in bed.**

 **Seb threw him a wry smile. "I thought you might," he replied.**

 **"** **Seriously, though," Charles added. "It makes you more distinguished."**

 **Seb could do little but laugh at that comment. "I suppose it's better than being a Klingon!"**

 **Lara opened her eyes wearily, sitting up slowly in the bed. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, before getting out of the bed and making for the sonic shower. Once she had washed and dried and dressed, she went into the main quarters and greeted Data.**

 **The android was stood looking rather impassively out of the great window. She couldn't help but smile at him.**

 **Apparently having sensed her presence, he turned to face her and nodded curtly. "Good morning, Lara. I trust you slept well?"**

 **She smiled and nodded genially, as she asked the replicator for cheese on toast and a mug of tea. Holding her breakfast, she replied, "Quite well, actually. I was quite surprised!"**

 **"I have learnt that Starfleet-issue furniture is not renowned for its comfortability," Data opined. His matter-of-fact tone made he smile, and she couldn't dispute his words.**

 **"Data," she began again, her voice laced with curiosity. "Do you have any family?" Uncomfortable with standing up, she took a seat at a table; Data felt obliged to copy her.**

 **His pale face seemed to be contemplating her question. "Not as far as I know," he finally said, after some deliberation.**

 **She looked into her tea for a minute, wondering what to say next. "No father or mother?"**

 **Data's head twitched slightly. "Not in the biological sense, no. But I do understand that my creator could be considered a parent."**

 **"Do you ever think about them?"**

 **"Hmm..." he mused, his golden eyes** **briefly looking up at the ceiling. "I do often contemplate what Dr Soong's motivation was for making me in his image."**

 **"Perhaps so that he would live on, or to remind people of him," she opined. Sipping casually at her tea, she added, "You know, like how God supposedly made Adam in his image?"**

 **Data was just about to put forward another theological argument but the door to Charles and Seb's quarters slid open and the two stumbled out, laughing to one another. Data noted the slight eye-roll that Lara gave, but he decided against announcing her reaction.**

 **As an hour or so passed and the cadets had exhausted the realms of pointless conversation, they reported, as ordered, to one of the ship's shuttlebays.**

 **"It's huge!" Seb breathed, his entire attention taken up with gazing in awe at the massive hangar. Charles tried not to look too embarrassed with the situation; every single cadet in Starfleet had seen a shuttlebay.**

 **Captain Radcliffe met them just outside of their designated shuttlecraft, having left his First Officer in control of the bridge.**

 **He had explained to the cadets that the shuttle had been fitted with a new hull; its Starfleet fuselage was covered by a darker green one, reminiscent of the types of craft that Romulus was famous for.**

 **He wished them luck and had his engineers brief the cadets on standard flight procedures. The captain took a long, hard look at Data, as if he were sizing the android up.**

 **Somewhat confused, Data piped up. "Sir, is there something the matter?"**

 **Radcliffe promptly cleared** **his throat and tugged his shirt down. "No. Not at all. I've been told how brilliant you four cadets are. If I had my way, I'd have one of you serving on my ship."**

 **Lara, Charles and Seb laughed nervously. They knew that Captain Radcliffe desired Data for his own crew. After all, who wouldn't?**

 **Once in the craft, the cadets began preflight procedures. Data and Seb were sat at the front of the cockpit, whilst Charles and Lara were left to relax for a whole until they swapped with the current pilots. Seb checked his console, making sure that it reflected what Data's console said. He and Data then programmed in the destination and the computer organised a flight plan and estimated time of landing. Satisfied, he gave Data the go ahead for the shuttle to engage engines. The hangar had been evacuated, depressurised, and the doors opened. Once the force field had been disengaged, the Data keyed in a few commands and the small ship exited the majestic** ** _Walsingham._**

 **The hulk of the starship was soon a small dot in the distance; it looked as minute as the stars dotted across the sky. Lara gazed with wonder out of the window. It was beautiful. She had seen it before, but that had been in the solar system. Out in deep space, it was a much different affair.**


	13. Jo'rek

**The shuttlecraft** **sped through the cosmos at half impulse power, and the stars started to become little more than blurs streaking beside them. The shuttle's computer system suddenly sounded an alarm and Lara, who who been sleeping, jolted upright, instantly awake. "What is it?" she asked.**

 **"** **Nothing to concern yourself with," Data replied, his voice in its usual measured and calm tone.**

 **Seb nodded and typed something into the console. "Uh uh, it was just warning us that we have entered the Neutral Zone."**

 **"** **We must be nearly there," Charles mused aloud, and Data nodded.**

 **"** **We have arrived at the planet – the Hidden Planet."**

 **"** **It's not very hidden, is it?" Seb felt compelled to pointed out the obvious. "Romulans aren't as subtle as you'd think, are they?"**

 **Lara rolled her eyes. "Maybe it's ironic," she suggested, though she doubted the reality of her own assumption. "Whatever it is, we need to start landing procedures. Data, did you want to swap places?"**

 **The android considered for a while. "I will obligingly** **hand over control to you, if you wish," he conceded.**

 **Upon that, Lara and Data exchanged seats in the shuttlecraft and she and Seb gave the computer system a landing pattern and route, and then the small ship began a descent.**

 **Charles was preoccupying himself with reading over a padd he had been given – they had each been appointed their own. He was reading his Romulan profile. "This is quite real," he mused, and Data gave him a curious look. "We've got the looks, and now we've got the whole works." He waved to the padd, on which were displayed all of the made-up ideals concerning his new Romulan identity.**

 **"** ** _Chebais,"_** **he said deliberately, feeling the unusual, alien word on his tongue. "Chebais." He shook his head. "I don't like it."**

 **Seb rolled his eyes. "We've had a while to look those over."**

 **"** **Still."**

 **"** **Be quiet, Chebais," he said, relishing Charles' irritated face when he heard the name.**

 **Shrugging his shoulders, Charles decided that he would get used to his new name. He would only have it for a short while, though. Besides, he could hardly be envious of Seb's being called** ** _Sevin,_** **and it would be amusing to call his sister** ** _Latuka._** **He frowned, realising that he had forgotten someone. "Data, what's your Romulan name?"**

 **Data blinked. "Devahk."**

 **"** **Hmm," Charles mused. Still not worth being jealous of.**

 **As the shuttle's altitude gradually got lower and lower, it began to shake slightly in protest, and Seb realised that the pattern was too steep. Data sensed that something was wrong and he leant over Seb's panicked shoulder, quickly altering the landing route, and the computer beeped contentedly.**

 **"** **Fifty thousand metres," Seb called out after thanking Data. "Forty-five… forty… twenty..."**

 **Lara took the opportunity to look out of the window. She at last figured out why the planet had its particular name. It was not hidden, no, not in the sense that it could not be found via navigation. But once she saw the surface of** ** _kilhra'eri euhre,_** **it became clear to her how desolate the planet was.**

 **"** **Why on earth would the Romulans want an outpost** ** _here?"_** **Charles asked, noting the relatively worn-out and dilapidated state of the world below them.**

 **Lara ignored her brother's comment. In its own way, the planet was beautiful. It reminded her of when she had gone hiking on Mars' Olympus Mons. There was not a lot to see and it was desolate as for as they eye could see, but it was staggering nonetheless. It was empty of life, as far as she could see, but that was the way with most outposts. The planets on which they were were uninhabited except for the few urban centres where procedures would take place.**

 **Out of the cockpit window, now, the cadets could fully take in the view in front of them. It was a busy metropolitan centre, a sharp contrast to the otherwise desert-like outskirts of the planet. People – Romulans – walked about the complex, doing business and talking to each other. It surprised Charles; he had never really thought of Romulans as particularly social creatures, but then he recalled that he had only ever met Vulcans. He had never even talked to a Romulan; he had only read about them.**

 **The shuttle hovered along the surface of the planet, before coming to a total stop. The computer told them that they had reached their destination – a rather superfluous warning – and they stood up warily.**

 **"** **I think I'd rather stay in here," Charles joked nervously, taking one last look around the cabin.**

 **"** **Stop complaining," Lara ordered him, and he soon obeyed. "This will be exciting, interesting, ground-breaking, won't it?" She looked at Seb and Data, who nodded readily.**

 **The cadets each picked up their own luggage, Data with much more ease than the rest of them, and then they alighted the shuttle and found themselves caught up in the strange beauty of the place. It was breath-taking. The architecture was astounding, unique. The great structures curved upwards to the sky, and he had to wonder what a sight Romulus itself must be. It reminded Data of Vulcan greatly, but he knew that it would be unwise to say so. He was a Romulan now. Not an android. Not a sympathiser with humans.**

 **First, they were to report to one particular place, and that building towered over the rest of the buildings, and Data informed his friends that the building was home to the military academy that Admiral Tucker had mentioned to them. They were greeted by a rather officious-looking Romulan woman with dark eyes and even darker brows. She led them to a desk, and Charles took in the air around him. It was a grand space, but at the same time rather lifeless and dull. There was no personal touch, no paintings or plants or even any windows. It was just plain and dark and did not look welcoming in the least. But it was a military academy, and a school was a school – they rarely seemed inviting, Romulan or not.**

 **Behind the desk a tall, slim Romulan male was waiting for them. He asked them for their identities and their retinas were scanned. Lara found herself panicking slightly, but then she felt Data's hand on her shoulder and she promptly calmed down. She had been nervous that something would go wrong with the signing-in procedure but it was all over in a flash, and before she knew it, the Romulan official had given them their quarters and told them to unpack their things.**

 **"** **We don't have much time," Charles muttered, hauling his suitcase along the ground, as Seb watched him with some degree of humour. "Seriously, we have to sort ourselves out, sort our stuff out, and then report for a meeting in half an hour? I don't think I can do that!"**

 **Lara made a face of amusement, and slight annoyance, which Data tried to read. He held out his hand. "Would you like me to carry your luggage, Charles?" he offered, having noticed Charles' tired face.**

 **Charles was about to accept but then declined. "You don't want to show off your strength too much, Data," he warned him. "You'll be found out in a jiffy."**

 **Having researched the meaning of the word 'jiffy', Data nodded in understanding. Their quarters were side-by-side. Lara was a little disturbed; apparently, Romulans didn't agree with gender separation. They had each been given individual key cards with which to get into their dorms.**

 **The dorms. They were very small, with only bunks. There were three to a dorm, and Seb, Charles and Data were all assigned to one together. Lara, however, was in the dormitory beside them, sharing with someone who she** ** _didn't know._**

 **"** **See you, Lara," Charles called, and Seb returned the farewell.**

 **Data, however, regarded her a little more closely. "I shall wait for you to unpack."**

 **Lara's mouth broke in an appreciative smile and she thanked Data, but declined his offer. Entering her dorm, he found that one bed was evidently already occupied, so she chose the one furthest from the occupied one. She wondered exactly who would be in the other bed; it did not seem to be in use at the moment.**

 **She couldn't help but be envious of the others; they all got to stay together, but here she was, all alone for lack of a better word. And, worse than that, she had no idea who she might see in the bed furthest from hers.**

 **Having set her suitcase on the chosen bed, she unpacked her clothes – her 'Romulan' clothes, hanging them up promptly, before taking out the various padds and textbooks that she had been given by Starfleet. She sighed when she got out the clothes; they were all either black or grey or brown, and she resented the Romulans for their lack of appreciation not only for fashion but also for colour. She decided that it would be best to store the padds and textbooks** **in a secure place, but such a place was lacking, so she settled for placing them under her bed. It would have to do.**

 **There was a mirror in her suitcase, too, and she slowly took it out. To her relief, the cosmetic alteration was still doing its job. She hoped that it would do all that it was supposed to do.**

 **Sure enough, when their half an hour of allotted preparation time was over, she found Data, Charles and Seb standing obligingly outside.**

 **The assembly hall was dull and lifeless; the walls were painted a stark grey, with a sharply accented ceiling and rather shiny floor. As soon as they entered the room, Charles felt compelled to note how quiet the room became; how everyone seemed to be watching them. And then he felt – at least he** ** _thought_** **that he felt –** **his disguise slip loose. The prosthetics… But the doctor had assured them that they were fine. And yet he couldn't shake off the unnerving feeling that the room was giving him.**

 **And the people in the room. There were perhaps a hundred Romulan cadets waiting patiently alongside them. Patiently? Perhaps watchfully? A Romulan rarely missed a trick. They were all standing obligingly side-by-side, the males basically indistinguishable from the females, all straight-backed and obedient.**

 **There were no chairs in the hall, only floor space for them to stand on. Lara swallowed deeply, and Data curiously cocked his head over in her direction. "Is something wrong?" he inquired, his voice deliberately low.**

 **She glanced up at him nervously, too scared to turn her head too much in case that was thought of as rude. "I'm just nervous," she mouthed, and Data gave her what she perceived as a comforting smile. Beneath all of the prosthetics, he was still undeniably Data. That gave her some degree of comfort.**

 **Suddenly, she felt someone push into her. She snapped her head around, her eyes narrowing and catching on a slim Romulan male.**

 **"** **I apologise," the offending person finally said, after having decided that they could not match her stare. His tone was not even condescending; Lara was shocked by that. He sounded annoyed, irritated, but that was as far as it went. He still did not sound sorry.**

 **Lara nodded curtly; normally, she would have told them not to worry, but Romulans were not compassionate people, by all accounts, and she wasn't about to transgress the stereotype. Once he** **had turned back to face the front and had joined the rest of the compliment in waiting for the arrival of the minister – or whoever was in charge – Lara found herself intrigued.**

 **He was tall and did not appear overly strong, but Lara gathered that Romulans shared the supreme strength abilities of their Vulcan cousins. Whatever is was, she wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of one. And yet his face was nearly serene, calm. His brow was high, his eyes bright and alert and intelligent.**

 **At last, the great door at the front of the hall slid open with a quiet whoosh and the entire room dropped to total silence. Charles found himself absent-mindedly reaching for Seb's hand, but Seb looked down at him with a pointed look and Charles nodded in brisk understanding. Lara felt herself grow unsteady on her feet.**

 **"** **Cadets." His voice was sharp and neutral, demanding** **respect in every way. "You have demonstrated that you are ready to make your people proud, to die for the Empire** **and to command respect from every other species, for they are subservient."**

 **Data, meanwhile, was analysing the man's speech. Each change of tone, pitch, speed, volume, told him what the man was thinking. But he didn't need his positronic brain to realise that the minister was disgusted with the mention of 'other species'. Yet there was something about the man's speech – more than** ** _something –_** **which arose suspicion in Data.**

 **"** **And now you will do even better. When the Federation or the Klingons-" another barely** **masked sneer, Data found "-take it upon themselves to stand up to us, we will be ready to strike."**

 ** _Like a cobra,_** **Charles couldn't help but think.**

 **"** **If they're even capable of that," Lara heard some rather courageous – or suicidal – cadet say.**

 **But his opinion was apparently seconded. "They've kept quiet for a hundred years. What's the point?"**

 **The murmurs were instantly silenced when the minister walked closer to the rabble. "Quiet," he snapped, and Data once again began his observations. "Do your people proud. Dismissed."**

 **After having filed out, Charles and Seb quickly made for their dorm, and then breathed a huge sigh of relief. Data was sitting, looking rather pensive, on the end of this bed.**

 **Next door, Lara was likewise sat on her bed, vaguely reading stuff on a padd, but she was really paying as little attention as possible. She jumped when the door slid open, caught unawares. Watching the doorway, she saw a familiar face step into the room.**

 **The Romulan looked at her for a short moment, their eyes meeting, before making for his own bunk and taking out an abundance of padds and technical manuals.**

 **"** **Hi," Lara began slowly, before cursing herself. How did Romulans even greet one another? She cleared her throat and was about to start again when the Romulan spoke.**

 **"** **Good evening," he said softly, and Lara listened for traces of suspicion in his voice. "I am Jo'rek."**

 **Taking that as an invitation, she introduced herself, making her voice deliberately low and barely making eye contact.** **_Do not introduce yourself as Lara._** **"** **I'm Latuka."**

 **He extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you," and she smiled.**

 **"** **Where's our other room mate?" she asked, gesturing to the one empty bunk.**

 **Jo'rek pursed his lips. "Ah, Cadet Lumaine was – used to be – until he got expelled."**

 **Lara looked away and made a mental note not to be expelled.**


	14. Cultural Differences

"So…How long have you been here? In this academy?" Lara found herself frowning slightly as she asked the question, wondering if Romulans were even the sort of people to make small talk. For the past half an hour, Jo'rek had been sat demurely on his bunk, withhis eyes closed. She knew that Vulcans were a species with great interest in meditation, but as far as she could remember, Romulans were quite the opposite. She wasn't sure what it was, but Jo'rek didn't seem like the traditional Romulan.

Jo'rek opened his eyes slowly, turning his head to scan the room. Then his gaze fell upon her and his expression became utterly unreadable. "I have only been here a month," he then replied. "And you yourself have only just arrived. What are your first impressions?" He inclined his head towards her.

Lara pursed her lips and then forced a smile, crossing her legs where she sat. "It's different," she found herself saying. "I had never expected it to be quite like this. But I am determined, certainly. This base must be the envy of the Alpha Quadrant."

After she had said that, she could've sworn that Jo'rek had given a smile. A brief smile. But a smile – an honest, sincere one – on a Romulan must count for something.

"Did you grow up on Romulus?" he then asked, and she found herself surprised, but pleasantly so, by the amount of interest that he appeared to be showing in her.

She shook her head. "No. I was born on Beta Magnus IV." Seeing his vacant expression, she added helpfully, "It's a small colony near the Narcissus Asteroid Belt." And then she watched his face to see if her lie had stood up to the test.

Apparently it had. He nodded, said, "Ah,"and then looked briefly down at his work. "I was born on Romulus," he replied, his mouth a straight line, as if he was forcing himself not to let too much on. "As soon as I turned sixteen, my father took me here and I have been in training for five years." He swallowed, and from his anguished look, Lara could tell that Jo'rek did not thank his father for what had happened.

She wanted to ask if he liked it at the academy but lacked the temerity to do so. Anyway, asking too many questions would surely make her seem suspicious, so she would just have to wait.

Lara had taken to lying back on her bunk, twiddling her thumbs and blowing air through her lips. Her original plan was to get some exercise, particularly important as she had an endurance test coming up in a few days. She wondered what sort of chance a human had against a Romulan in such a test, but she wasn't prepared to place bets just yet. Any hope of rest, however, was scuppered when she saw how perturbed Jo'rek appeared.

He groaned in frustration and nearly threw his padd across the room, instead swearing under his breath. Still unsure of herself, Lara brought herself into a seated position and glanced over at him. "Is something wrong?" she asked, the question delivered in as blunt a tone as she could force. Her brain had been telling her to sound more compassionate, but she was in character now.

Jo'rek's eyes fell on hers and he brought a hand up to rub his temples. "No," he said shortly. "I am fine."

"You don't sound fine." As soon as the words had left her mouth, she clamped her lips shut. She was not meant to say _that._

Curiosity consumed his face as he regarded her at that moment. Lara was vaguely worried that he would suspect something, but instead his mouth turned into a smile.

"What is it?" she asked again, not afraid of overstepping the mark.

"Nothing," he replied quickly. "I have something to do." With that, he jumped off of the bed and made for the door. Lara watched after him, utterly bemused.

Charles allowed his gaze to wander around his new dorm room. "What do you think Lara's up to?" he asked idly, the question not directed to either Seb or Data in particular.

Seb shrugged, but Data seemed more forthcoming in terms of an answer. "I suspect she is doing much the same as we have been: unpacking her belongings and acquainting herself with the facilities and surroundings." He paused. "However, I also suspect she is acquainting herself with her room mate."

Charles' eyes narrowed and he looked over at Data. "Did you see her room mate? What do they look like?"

Data considered a moment as his processors gathered the necessary information. "I believe he was male."

Seb raised an eyebrow when he caught sight of Charles' slightly suspicious look. "What's wrong with you?" he asked. When he got no response, he sighed and reiterated his thoughts. "Look, if you're that put out, why don't you go and make yourself known?"

Charles looked intent on considering it, but he didn't want to embarrass his sister. He glanced over at Data, as if the android could offer him some advice.

"I would suggest going to talk to Lara," Data opined. "If you are truly concerned for her well-being."

With that, Charles sprang to his feet and exited the dorm, arriving outside of Lara's room. He pressed the commpanel and Lara called out for him to enter.

"You don't look happy," he observed of his sister, catching sight of her crestfallen face.

Lara rolled her eyes and breathed air through parted lips. "I'm fine," she replied honestly.

"You are?" he pressed, his brows knitting.

"It's just… Jo'rek's been acting weirdly."

Charles' eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Who?"

She sighed and then amended her faux pas. "Jo'rek is my room mate. He doesn't act like a normal Romulan."

"And you do?" he asked pointedly.

"That's not the point. What I mean is, we've read about the Romulans who are self-centered and rude and dictatorial. But he's not like that."

"Is he nice?" The childish question was the embodiment of his brotherly concern for her.

It took her a while to decipher her brother's true meaning. "I mean… for a Romulan, he is."

Charles raised an eyebrow, evidently amused by her reply. "Oh," was all that he said, his mouth twisting into a smirk.

Catching onto his meaning, Lara moaned and gestured to the door. "Look. He's been out for a while. He might come back. I don't want him to be suspicious of us."

Charles was silent for a minute. "He won't be suspicious. After all, maybe he's not a Romulan anyway. Maybe he's on some sort of _secret_ mission like we are. Or, like we're _supposed_ to be." His voice inflected when he mentioned the word 'secret'; it had not quite sunk in yet.

"I doubt that."

"Well..." he began, and from his over-emphatic voice, Lara knew that she should brace herself for what was to come. "Maybe he likes you."

"Maybe he what?" she repeated, startled, if not confused.

"You heard what I said," he said simply, and then he made for the door, pressing the release button. "But I suppose that's _not Romulan, is it?"_

"Yeah, make fun of me," she snapped. "Why don't you go back to Seb and Data? Make the most of your time with them. I'll just sit here by myself."

"Come on, Lara," he finally said, his tone softening. "Don't be like that. But this isn't some sort of holiday home, you know? Who knows, you and… Jo'rek might become good friends."

She wasn't sure if she liked the sound of that. Whatever it was, she didn't think that she'd get the chance to find out.

Charles held back a snort as he caught sight of a Romulan entering the dorm just as he was leaving, and he gathered that it was Jo'rek. Jo'rek seemed to have noticed Charles, though he simply bowed his head respectfully… which annoyed Charles even more.

Jo'rek came into the room with a heavy sigh, his fingers resting on his greenish temples. Lara noticed that he had changed his clothing. He was no longer wearing the tight-fighting, broad-shouldered cadet suit. Instead, he was clothed in a much finer material, nearly latex. She couldn't stop herself from raising an eyebrow. It was still a strange sensation; it was not _her_ eyebrow that she was raising, but a synthetic, pointed one.

"Do you wish to accompany me in training for the endurance test?" Jo'rek had asked Lara pointedly, outright, and she had been caught slightly unawares.

Fighting to cover up the confusion on her face, she smiled briefly. "If…Yes, of course." Then she looked down at what she was wearing. "Ah. I'll have to change first."

Hearing her say that, Jo'rek nearly blushed. And then he waved to the wash-room adjacent to their dorm. He cleared his throat and signalled that he would wait for her. So, Lara collected her training gear and slipped into the wash-room, returning minutes later.

As the two of them walked through the cavernous halls of the academy building, Lara found herself occasionally glancing over at her Romulan companion. He had a powerful stride, somewhat surprising considering his slight build. His hair was jet black, as it was with so many Romulans, but in conjunction with his facial features, it did not make him seem hard or menacing.

They reached the training ground, having walked in relative quiet.

"What should we do first?" she asked, looking around her surroundings. The brief survey had brought to her attention many things of interest. First, Romulans regularly exercised and trained. In hindsight, she supposed that that was hardly surprising, as they always seemed to be in peak physical condition. After all, Starfleet officers were expected to be fit and healthy and had to submit to numerous medical checks, so why should the Romulan military regime be any different?

Second, they seemed to interact with one another on a human level. They did not appear to be the cold, egotistical specimens that she had often read about in Starfleet textbooks. But then she was forced to correct herself on that. They only Romulan whom she had become even basically acquainted with was Jo'rek, and as far as she could tell, he was not a true Romulan. In blood and DNA maybe, but that was it.

Jo'rek cast her a look. "It is customary for each Romulan cadet to complete ten laps of the training ground each day."

Her jaw very nearly fell to the floor. Ten laps. Each day. That did not sound fun. She wondered if she would live through it. "Should we race each other?"

That appeared to amuse him. His mouth curled slightly in a grin. And then he subdued it. "If you wish."

They knelt into the starting-position, before bending upwards slightly and then setting off. For the first dozen metres, Lara genuinely enjoyed herself. It loosened up her agitated muscles and somewhat served to distract her from the hard fact that she was on a planet surrounded by Romulans.

"You are faster that you look," Jo'rek observed, and Lara cast him a devious smile, before speeding up her pace, until she was far ahead of him. He matched her speed with more than generous ease, but she wasn't annoyed.

When their ten consecutive laps were done, Lara flopped down on the ground, before being hauled up by Jo'rek's steadfast glare. Romulans did not lie down after a race, unless they _wanted_ to show weakness. Lara at once sprang to her feet, and settled for stretching and rubbing her aching limbs.

Jo'rek seemed to be in some discomfort, and Lara took note of the beads of perspiration that had taken hold of his brow.

"I believe you won that," Lara congratulated him, once she had gotten her breath back. "Well done."

Jo'rek gave her a curt nod of appreciation, before taking the time to mention that the time had indeed passed them by. They were due for their first seminar of the day. Lara could have screamed: the planet's red dwarf sun had barely been in the sky for an hour and she had already run more miles than she cared to count. And now she would have to attend some teaching lecture that she truly didn't have to go to.


	15. A Romulan's Compassion

Lara was frozen to the spot. She took in breath harshly and deliberately, as if that would help her at that moment in time. A cursory glance around the room revealed no friendly faces. At least, until she encountered the concerned countenance of Jo'rek. Her room mate regarded her stiffly, as if he did not want her to read his feelings.

But she was still in trouble. The seminar room was large – much larger than those at Starfleet Academy – and the walls seemed so high as to make speech and sounds echo.

"Cadet." There was the voice again. Demanding and harsh. "I will not ask you again. Why are you late?"

She had wished for the ground to swallow her up there and then. How could she possibly disclose any information to the professor? He did not look to be in a conciliatory mood. She swallowed hard and forced herself to look him in the eye. "I apologise, sir," she began tentatively, though her voice was strengthening. "But I lost track of the time. I had been running laps in the training grounds when I came into difficulty."

"Can anyone corroborate this story?" the professor inquired again, his dark eyes boring into hers.

Lara resented the spectacle greatly. Had this occurred at Starfleet Academy, the teacher would have taken her to one side and given her a quiet word. But Romulans apparently didn't have much regard for privacy and personal space – the unisex dormitories were testament to that –so the professor simply scolded her out in the open, in the middle of the conference room, with the rest of the class watching the issue unfold. They were to learn from the mistakes and misdemeanours of others.

But what she had told the professor had been a lie. The difficulties that she had mentioned had been fictitious, except for the fact that she and Jo'rek had been talking at such great length that time passed them by. While Jo'rek managed to reach the lecture just on time, Lara had decided to do another lap, to see if she could beat her personal best, determined on proving her worth against the Romulans, though the plan totally backfired.

Her breath escaped her in a single long sigh of relief when she noticed Jo'rek raise a hand and stand up. "Yes, sir. I was. I only just managed to get here on time."

The rest of the class were watching the spectacle intently, but as soon as they heard their professor speak again, their attention was only on him.

Seemingly satisfied with the cautionary words that had been delivered, the teacher sat down at his desk and asked for every student to bring out their padds.

As they were walking back to their joint dorm, Lara decided that she ought not wait any longer to thank him. They had travelled in silence, and she gathered that he was embarrassed by her, or possibly by his accepting responsibility for her actions.

"Jo'rek," the word left her mouth uncertainly. "I just wanted to say thank you. For standing up for me during the lesson."

He gave her a curt nod, barely even looking up to face her, as he put the keycard into the door and the thing slid open. "You are welcome."

Internally, Lara groaned. Romulans could really be infuriating sometimes. Perhaps a Vulcan would make a better room mate, even. After all, though they gave off no emotion, you at least knew where you stood with a Vulcan. Their Romulan cousins, however, were sneaky and sly and ultimately their expressions were unreadable.

"Why are you so quiet?" she asked him, watching him curiously. "I mean, when we were running you couldn't keep your mouth shut. But now… I don't know." She shook her head and sighed, thinking that she was getting ahead of herself. She was being foolish and naive.

Jo'rek cast his watchful gaze over in her direction and seemed to be considering for a moment. It was perhaps the longest moment of his life. "If you wish to know, I am concerned for what my father will say..."

Lara frowned. "You father? About what?" She left her bed and sat on the edge of his.

Jo'rek seemed too engrossed in telling his story to notice how close she now was to him. "I will have disgraced him, Latuka."

His use of her Romulan name – her code name – made her shudder briefly. She wanted him to call her by her proper name.

"He had such high expectations for me. I was supposed to follow in his foot steps and uphold our family's name."

"I don't understand. What have you done that's so bad?" she asked.

Jo'rek bent forward and briefly held his head in his hands. "I shouldn't have said what I said earlier."

"What…?" She cut off her own sentence when his meaning dawned upon her. "Oh. You mean defending me?"

He didn't even nod, but he had no need to. "When my father hears that I have been transgressing my schedule and that I was late for a lesson because of fraternising with an off-worlder..."

His words shocked her, but she managed to regain her composure. She was starting to finally see how different Romulan culture was from Earth culture. It seemed that parents had absolute control over their offspring, even when they were adults. But his words had hurt her, and she was sure that he could see that they had. "I'm not an off-worlder," she muttered, the irony twisting like a knife in her stomach.

He regarded her stiffly for a moment, but the moment seemed to last an aeon. He was sizing her up, scrutinising her. His gaze caught on her eyes, which had since grown shy and unrevealing.

"And, anyway," she began, desperate to distract him for a while. "You weren't _late_ for a lesson. You arrived on time, right? I'm the one who turned up ten minutes afterthe thing started."

He nodded slowly, his head bobbing up and down in uncertainty.

"Besides, I liked you standing up for me." Lara could hardly believe herself when those words left her mouth, but she had said them, they had been heard, and there was no going back. His hand was resting vacantly on the side of the bunk, and she felt an urge to touch it, but she did not. His face displayed anguish and distress, but those feelings were overshadowed by something else. Something worse. Fear. Of what, though? The Academy authorities? His father? Her?

As Jo'rek brought his brooding gaze up, he found himself looking her in the eye. She was beautiful, he found himself contemplating. And however much he tried to shake those thoughts from his head, they would not budge.

"I apologise for implying that you were an off-worlder," he suddenly said, and the randomness of the apology somewhat startled her.

She smiled genially. "No matter. I know what you meant."

"I'm hardly the embodiment of Romulan attitudes," he quipped, not resenting the self-deprecating remark.

"Perhaps you embody the best of the Romulan attitudes," she suggested.

"And what would that be?" he asked, confused.

She considered for a moment, her hand still in contact with his, their eyes still locked. "Compassion. Compassion for your people."

He would have called that pride under any other circumstances, but when faced with her undeniable beauty and honesty, he found it hard to contest. Any thoughts on the matter dissolved when he felt her hand in his, and her reacted without thinking, reaching his other hand up to touch her face she was somewhat scared. Part nervous, part excited.

Before he knew it, he had leant forward and touched his lips to hers. She held the kiss for a fraction of a second, before abruptly drawing back. Her change of expression alarmed him, and he felt a blush of anguish rising on his skin. His face grew hot and he suddenly felt as though the room were caving in on him. He got to his feet and stared at her.

She looked at him questioningly.

He swore under his breath, before storming out of the room, leaving her in perplexity.


	16. Field Trip

The following day, after what was a restless night for most of the cadets, they all arrived in a field. The field was surrounded on all sides by a dense network of trees. Lara had dragged herself out of bed, while Charles and Seb seemed relatively happy, and Data was his usual blank self. Lara had attempted to strike up some sort of conversation with Jo'rek, but he had barely even looked at her. But any bickering quickly came to a close when the exercise sergeant turned up before the crowd of cadets. He had briefed them on their task: a survival exercise, and then the conglomeration had been split up into groups of five.

"Excuse me. You look preoccupied emotionally. Is there something wrong?"

There could have been no doubt as to who had asked her that question, and Lara was indeed pleased to find Data staring down at her, a look of what could have been concern written on his face. She gave him a half-hearted smile, not able to provide anything more. "I'm just being stupid, is all. Don't worry yourself."

Data cocked his head to the side, like a confused puppy, and then sought an adequate response. "Your apprehension for my well-being is admirable, but I cannot 'worry'. And I do not see what a lack of intelligence has to do with my query."

Lara could have laughed; in fact, she nearly did. "Oh. I'd much rather all humanoids were like you. I understand you."

"Would I be correct in assuming that you speak with reference to Romulans?" the android asked, regarding his friend closely, as if watching her face could give him any hints.

"You would be," she replied, and the words were an embittered whisper. "Well, one _specific_ Romulan."

Data gestured for her to continue her story.

"I mean, what is his problem?" she launched into a whisper of a tirade. "Jo'rek," she clarified for Data. "We share a dorm, I get that. We're going to fall out some time or another. And what's worse is I'm not even _Romulan!_ To be honest, I don't even think he is. If he is, then Romulans must have done a hell of a lot of evolving in the past hundred years or so." Then she sighed heavily, the breath escaping from her lungs in a long _huff._ She bit her lip, realising that she might have broken their cover, but then she calmed herself when she saw that none of the accompanying cadets were paying any attention.

Data shook his head and raised a white eyebrow. "I do not think that that is likely."

Lara gave him a nod of agreement. "Exactly."

"You give me the impression that there is more to your discomfort," Data prompted, apparently intrigued by this display of human emotions.

"I did try to understand Jo'rek. I tried talking with him, and don't get me wrong, I think he genuinely liked me." She faltered and then picked herself back up again. "I just didn't think in _that_ way."

"Ah," Data said, appearing to catch on. "Do you mean romantically?"

Lara's eyes widened involuntarily on hearing that word. She held her head briefly in her hands and then pulled herself back up to her full height. "Uh huh."

Data nodded, but his inquisitive expression seemed to suggest that he was waiting for more of an answer.

She sighed. "He kissed me."

"I see," he said plainly. "Am I to understand that your present pessimistic expression is a response to your having to compete in this survival task _with_ Cadet Jo'rek?" Data inquired.

Seeing her nod, the android gave a small smile. "It's going to be a long couple of hours."

And she was right, to her dismay. Not only was her mood already darkened by the prospect of having to spend hours on end – it would seem like days on end – with someone who tried to kiss her, it was also pouring with rain.

The cadets had not been given any form of protection against the rain, but Lara gathered that it would be somewhat un-Romulan to have to be protected from something as pathetic as bad weather. But it wasn't just _bad_ weather, it was horrendous. And that was not good news for humans.

But at the moment, Lara saw that Jo'rek was preoccupied with Charles and Seb. No doubt Jo'rek was trying to work out the true extent of the relationship between the two cadets. Besides, she had Data with her, and Data was ever the face of calm.

"Am I to assume that humans do not favour inclement weather conditions?" Datainquired of her, apparently having noticed her tired expression.

Lara could have laughed. "Spot on," she said with a sad smile. "You know, Devahk, can't you get… um… water-logged?"

Data seemed to be considering that for a short while. "Ah. I understand. But no, my systems cannot be compromised by excessive water-intake."

His very 'android' response took a bit of the weight off of her mind. She looked up at the sky and saw that the heavens were starting to clear – slowly but surely, that was. The rains were slowing from a hammering pace to more of a shower, and the clouds had shifted to brighten up the sky a bit.

"Latuka?" she heard someone call, and from the slightly-whiny tone, she attributed the voice to her brother. "Are you two going to just talk, or have you forgotten what we're doing here?" he added pointedly.

Data seemed to clock onto what he was saying – or not saying. "Of course. We have been put in a group together, and as such, we must work with one another. We will have to work at our highest potential, if we are to make a name for ourselves back on Romulus."

Jo'rek was undeniably put on guard by Data's words. They were harsh and blunt – apparently, the words of a true Romulan. "You are right."

Lara gave Data an agreeing nod, though her gaze skated over Jo'rek's face. He frowned at her slightly.

"So," Seb said, taking out his padd and showing it the company. "We have five hours to locate the enemy base."

"Enemy base?" Charles snorted, before sobering when he caught sight of Jo'rek's questioning face. "I mean… how are we meant to find it?"

"We could split up," Seb suggested, and Lara instantly gave him a withering look. "Or not," he added in a small voice.

But Charles grinned at him, oblivious to his sister's silent protest. "Yes. That's a good idea."

Data raised a finger. "Splitting up does seem like a beneficial way of increasing our chances of finding this enemy base. However, we must form the separate teams properly, or the exercise could be counter-productive."

"What do you suggest?" Jo'rek then asked.

Seb, who had been leaning against some sort of tree, came forward and gave Charles a pointed look. "Yes, Chebais and I will be a team, won't we?" Seb offered, though he and Charles were to only ones who looked particularly pleased.

Lara rolled her eyes. She wondered if Charles and Seb had any idea of what had happened between her and Jo'rek. But then she guessed that Data would respect her privacy, so he wouldn't tell anyone of that occurrence, unless she told him to.

"I suggest that I work alone," Data said simply.

Jo'rek narrowed his eyes. "Really?"

Had it not been for Charles and Seb's cautionary glances in his direction, Data would have probably let loose that his positronic net meant working in teams basically pointless. Data could just as easily do all of the work himself. But he had caught sight of his friends' worried expressions, and so he replied simply, "I.. feel that I worked better alone."

Jo'rek gave him a wry smile – the first true sign of emotion that he seemed willing to give.

"I suppose that means I'm with you," Lara murmured, looking over in Jo'rek's direction.

He only gave her a curt nod. It was cold and professional and she did not like it.

They all parted ways, with Charles and Seb prancing off together happily, Data heading off at his usually stoic pace, and Lara and Jo'rek lagging behind.

She soon found that while she was cursing Data for offering to work alone, and thus abandoning her with Jo'rek, the Romulan had actually wandered away from her. So she had to make her way through the forest alone, her padd her only help as to where she was going.

"Will you slow down?" she finally erupted, trudging over the mossy, slippery ground.

In the distance, she could see a tall figure come to a halt, and when she caught up, she saw that it was Jo'rek.

"I apologise, Latuka," he muttered. "I thought that you were behind me."

 _Of course you did._ But then she smiled at him. "Have you found anything on your padd?" she asked.

He shook his head, annoyed. "Nothing of interest. You?"

"Nope. Nothing, either," she echoed, sighing sadly.

The walked on in uncomfortable silence for what could have been an hour, or two, and then Lara decided on saying something. Something that had been playing on her mind ever since she had met him. "Jo'rek?" she started, determined to fight back the nerves in her voice.

He turned to look at her. "Yes?"

They were still walking, but she said, "If I'm honest… you're the strangest Romulan I've ever met."

After a split-second of regarding her, his expression became unreadable. She thought that he would say the same thing about her, Charles, Seb and Data, or perhaps that he would erupt into a fit of rage, furious that she could ever imply such a thing. But he seemed calm, amused even. "I know."

Her brow furrowed a little. "What?" she stuttered, unsure.

"I know I'm not exactly _Romulan_ in what I do and how I do it. And I know that my father is outraged with me." He paused, and Lara saw a bit of humanity in his blue eyes. "But why should I care?"

That was a remarkably un-Romulan way of looking at things, she gathered. Jo'rek did not seem to care about his people or his planet or his name. She wasn't sure if that unnerved her or reassured her.

"I don't understand," was just about all that she could manage to say.

But the window into his conscience had apparently since become closed. "It does not matter. Come, we have wasted enough time talking. We must get going, or the others will succeed before us."

She gave him a wry smile. "You don't really care about _that,_ do you?"

He shook his head, and after a moment, he asked her, "Are you familiar with the works of Surak?"

The word set off alarm bells in her head. Surak. The father of everything Vulcan. In the years when Vulcans had been savages – thriving off of emotions and bloodsports and all of the things now considered uncouth – Surak had stood up to his people and had given them a word of advice. Logic was the way of things. It would calm people down and introduce them to new prospects. It would improve them and give them the upper-hand, but through peace and organisation. "Yes, I have," she subsequently told Jo'rek.

"My mother-" Then he suddenly broke off and his face once again became a stony façade. He may have been an unconventional Romulan, but he still was a Romulan, and family meant a lot to him, Lara mused.

"I won't tell anyone what you say to me," she said softly, catching his eye. There was something interesting, intriguing, in his expression. She wondered if he was trying to figure her out – after all, he was not an outspoken man, so why not?

He chewed his cheek. "My mother was a… dissident," he continued, and Lara watched with wide-eyes. "She was imprisoned for being a Vulcan sympathiser. See, she had Vulcan blood. When my father found out, he was outraged. But he loved her." He looked around wistfully, and Lara wondered if he was cursing orremembering his past. "Anyway, she introduced me to Surak's teachings."

"Where is she now?" Lara asked tentatively, though she feared that she already knew the answer.

"She is dead."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, watching him gently.

"There was nothing that could be done," he replied, but his tone of voice was not as cold as his words. He spoke hotly and ruefully, and Lara mused that he was much more Romulan than he realised.

"How far do you think the others are in this task?" she asked, wondering herself.

He shrugged. "I do not know. Further than us." He offered her a brief smile, a grin.

She found herself laughing. "Come on. There's still time. I'm sure we can get a pretty good time." She set off, but was recalled when she heard Jo'rek calling her name.

"Latuka?" he had said, and for a short moment – a short, scary moment – she felt that he had caught on to her disguise. She didn't sound or act Romulan any more than he did. "How much _do_ you know about Surak's teachings?"

Her breath escaped from her in one swift movement, and she considered for a minute. "Not that much. It's required learning back at-" She cursed herself mentally. _Required learning back at Starfleet Academy._ She couldn't say that. "Never mind."

He raised an eyebrow, no doubt trying to work her out. "Anyway..." he began, his gaze still very much on her.

"You could teach me," she said suddenly. "If you wanted to, of course."

He appeared to be considering her words; perhaps he thought that she was a spy, or an agent. For a split second, he even feared that she might be reporting on him. Of course, she _was,_ but he didn't know that. Then he smiled briefly and gave her a curt nod. "I suppose I could."

And so they marched on for a few more hours, ticking a few more miles off of their trek. There were not many mountains or ravines to pass in the course, but it was tiring nonetheless. There were hazards aplenty, from warning sirens and trip systems and booby traps, to holographic vicious creatures. But the two of them had kept their cool, passing the time with small-talk.

But sometimes small-talk could get in the way of more important things. More important, life-saving things. They had been too merrily engrossed in conversation to notice the sheer drop that waswaiting for them down the side of a cliff that had previously seemed sofar away.

"Stop!" Lara found herself yelling at the top of her lungs. "Jo'rek!"

She had since stopped her pace for a brief moment, to investigate what seemed like a helpful sign – a holographic interface. She had thought that it might lead them to the enemy bunker. They still had enough time to complete the survival task.

The Romulan span around to face her but it was too late. The ground gave way from beneath him and for a short, terrifying moment, he was floating in mid-air. His eyes met hers, horrified as they were, but then he fell from view.

Lara came running up to the side of the cliff and gasped. The air came into her lungs so quickly that it caused her to choke. She could see him hanging haphazardly to the edge of the cliff-face, his fingers grasping desperately onto a piece of tree root that happened to be protruding from the rock. He wasn't dead. He hadn't fallen. That was something.

"Are you all right?" she asked, though the question was a somewhat stupid one.

He gave her a brave grin. "I… Yes."

"Should I get help?" But she shook her head. How could she leave him there, hanging on for dear life? "No. I'll stay here."

"You ought to leave. You can still win this for the two of us." His eyes had hardened; he looked as though he would be fine with her leaving him. But when Lara looked deeper into his face, she saw the opposite.

She was horrified. "I'm not going to leave you for some stupid military exercise."

He seemed puzzled but at least pleased. But then he groaned, as the strain of holding his entire body-weight soon struck his arm muscles and nerves.

"Look, I'll help you up." She wondered if she was taking on more than she could handle. She was a human female. How could she possibly lift up a Romulan male? She had no idea, but she would try.

"Give me your hand," she suggested, and Jo'rek daintily took one hand off of the cliff, and then instantly placed it in Lara's. She groaned under the strain, but wiped the sweat off of her brow, becoming suddenly alarmed when she felt the Romulan-esque forehead ridges. As Lara got some purchase on the ground by digging her heels into the floor, Jo'rek leant backwards to give himself a bit of momentum. Then he heaved himself upwards, out of danger and into safety.

For a small amount of time, she thought that she had the entirety of his weight on top of her, and her chest was slowly being compressed by the force. But that was overshadowed by the fact that he was well; he was not going to die. Still on top of her, he smiled at her.

As she caught his eye, she grinned, sighing out of relief when he picked himself up off of her and the ground. Sat on the muddy ground together, they could do little but laugh.

"Thank you," Jo'rek muttered, but he meant it whole-heartedly. He still appeared embarrassed, though, but she had no one really to tell about the humiliating incident, and that knowledge calmed his nerves.

"Don't mention it," she brushed off his gratitude, feeling bad because she was still ultimately lying to him.

He stood up and held out his hand, and she took it, hauling herself to her feet. "Are you hurt anywhere?" she inquired.

"Nothing major," he replied, having given himself a quick once-over. But then he lifted his head up and squinted into the distance. "I think… I think _that_ might be what we're looking for." Then he started walking in that direction.

Slightly irritated that he had not waited for her, she picked up her feet and followed him. Waiting for them was a small cave-like place, just high enough to let a man walk through comfortably. Jo'rek went first, having put his hand out to stop Lara from walking ahead of him. She smiled when he couldn't see her face; he was trying to protect her. Perhaps to return the favour. Perhaps…

Their padds suddenly jerked and beeped, and when Lara turned her eye to the display, she breathed a sigh of relief. "We're here. The enemy base." And there were no other cadets there.

But Jo'rek had apparently already figured that out. At present, he was working at a computer terminal that was inside the disused cave. His fingers danced quickly over the controls, and Lara struggled to see quite what he was typing in. A computerised voice gave them a piece of information: "Intruder alert. You have one minute to evacuate before the vessel self-destructs."

Before Jo'rek had had his unfortunate fall, Lara would have been certain that the thing wouldn't really explode with the pair of them inside. But she was starting to think that a Romulan military academy would make their recreations as real as possible, even if that meant killing off a few cadets. It would be just as when the Vikings used to train for battle when using real swords, and if one of the warriors misjudged a sword thrust, he would be wounded or killed. After all, that would remove the hapless and weak cadets from the mix.

Lara watched Jo'rek with baited breath as he tried to override the command process. But he was getting nowhere. And then she remembered something that she had learnt at Starfleet Academy. She shoved Jo'rek to one side, leaving him vaguely stunned, and leant over the terminal. Her Starfleet-trained mind kicked in and she typed in command after command. With ten seconds left on the countdown, the machine seemed to power down, the red lights went off, and the computer voice announced that they had averted the danger and then it proclaimed them the winners.

Jo'rek held out his hand to congratulate her, but she ignored it and threw her arms around him. He was flabbergasted, to say the least, but he soon relaxed into the gesture and smiled.


	17. Expectations

After they had received reasonably stoic congratulations from the exercise sergeant once he had found out that they had won the exercise, and after they had been used as an example to all of the other cadets who had 'failed' – including Data, Charles and Seb – they were allowed to return to their quarters for much deserved rest.

Lara had had her head stuck out of the dorm's single small window for longer than she cared to remember, breathing in the scent of the alien air. As if it would help her feel closer to Earth than she really was. Lightyears and lightyears away from home. But that was what life was like in Starfleet. Sometimes, more often than not, she could think of nothing nicer than being able to tell Jo'rek who she really was. Had she been a bit more naive, she might have thought that he wouldn't have cared if she were a human, but though he seemed like a reasonable Romulan, she wasn't prepared to take any chances.

At last, she withdrew herself back into the room and closed the window. It shut with a _thunk_ and Jo'rek looked up to see her. He had been reading something on his padd, and she wondered if it was to do with Surak. But she knew how dangerous that would be.

"What are you reading?" she asked. In a way, she was glad for that treacherous experience of earlier that day. She might have gotten wet and muddy and fed up, but she had finally gotten somewhere with Jo'rek. He was now a little less mysterious.

He cocked an eyebrow, regarding her for a moment. "Nothing important."

She frowned. She was interested in why he was being so closed, but she didn't want to press it. "It's none of my business, I suppose," she replied shortly.

Then she stepped into the washroom, emerging later on, ready to get some sleep at last.

Jo'rek showed no signs of falling asleep. He was still reading whatever was on his padd, intently, it seemed. He never looked up from it. He sighed. "It is a letter from my mother. She wrote it when I was only young."

Lara felt her heart stop for a brief moment. She glanced over at him and smiled sadly. "You don't have to tell me," she said softly. With her back momentarily to him, she got herself a glass of water from the replicator.

"I don't see why not," he countered, his tone of voice tight. He seemed as though he might either cry or curse with anger.

"Look, I know it's not my place to say so, and far be it for me to say otherwise… but you seem more attached to your mother than your father."

He nodded. "Very perceptive." He paused. "I presume you areclose with your family?"

"I am." She was proud and happy to admit so, but she was ultimately saddened. She missed them. Enormously. She couldn't even contact them – at least, if she did, her call would be traced and she would be placed in jeopardy and the mission would be a write-off. How would Starfleet Command deal with _that?_

"My father hates everything that I am," Jo'rek revealed, his tone wavering. "I joined the academy because I had to."

"Not because you wanted to," she added, but she saw that perhaps that was taking it a step too far.

"I have put his departmentto shame."

"His department?"

"Do you not know who my father is?" he asked, curious and bemused. Everyone knew who his father was.

She shook her head. "No."

"He is the head of the Romulan Senate. Praetor Jirruit."

For a moment, she could do very little but watch him and consider. He really was the most unassuming of individuals, and yet apparently his father was the most influential and most important member of his species. And also the most powerful. Lara then had a horrid thought cross her mind: was it all a ruse? Had this Jirruit arranged for her and his son to share a dormitory so that she might betray Federation secrets to him? No. That was ridiculous. Besides, how would Jirruit even _know_ that she was not a Romulan, that she was a human on an Academy mission? After all, it was the proconsul that Data had heard speaking with the Starfleet official all those months ago, wasn't it? It wasn't _the head_ of the Senate.

Snapping out of her unpleasant reverie, Lara returned to the real world to find Jo'rek staring at her wildly, as if he were calculating what she might say next.

"Ah," she said, nodding her head. Now that she came to think of it, she was sure that she recognised the name. Jirruit. Perhaps she had not heard it as often as Jo'rek had, but she still had a vague recollection of having heard it being mentioned at the Academy once or twice. "I have heard that the praetor is a blessing upon our people."

Jo'rek's face visibly twitched at the sound of that. "Yes," he muttered. "He is indeed a blessing."

"Will you tell me why you don't like him?" she asked.

He looked aghast. "Don't talk like that."

She regarded him, quietly and thoughtfully. "Why not?"

His eyes narrowed and he came over to her, crossing the room in a flash. He was standing over her and she was still hovering by the replicator, glass of water in hand. She soon found herself having backed into the wall, with him glaring down at her. She retained her grip on the glass, and the glass was starting to feel slippery.

"Just don't," was his single command, and she barely even nodded. Apparently, he had not seen her acquiescence, which made him even more unreadable.

Lara reached behind her and put the water back on the replicator shelf. Then she resumed her gaze at him. His eyes had darkened and his hair was hanging in his face. But his mouth had twisted from the usual unreadable, bemused expression to one of menace.

"Why?" she maintained, her tone of voice showing no signs of fluctuating. She was a Romulan. And Romulans did not give in.

He was determined and angry and protective, a dangerous combination.

"Look, Jo'rek," she began slowly, her pulse starting to increase and her heart-beat starting to get erratic. "I am sorry if I have-"

But he did not permit her to finish her sentence, apology though it was, for he had seized her arm and was holding it above her head. She looked around the room, wide-eyed, then back at him.

"Do you have any idea what you're talking about?" Her dumbfounded, scared expression incited in him an angry sigh. "Treason, that's what. And you know what the punishment for that is."

She didn't have to be told what the punishment might be. "Will you _get off_ me?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes.

He had released his grip from her arm but still had her pressed against the wall and he would not let her go from his sight. When she was let go at last, she breathed a sigh of relief and instantly turned her back to him. She felt his footsteps on the hard floor; he was walking towards her again.

"Leave me alone."

"I'm sorry," he said in a small voice, sounding defeated and apologetic. "I shouldn't have done that."

When she woke up the following morning, she found that Jo'rek had already left. So she washed and changed before meeting up with Charles, Seb and Data, and the three of them left for the canteen. It was not her first visit to the canteen, but she was still totally astounded by the atmosphere of the place. It certainly was far-removed from the canteen back at Starfleet Academy.

There was no laughter in the room, and the only topics being talked about seemed to be related to scholarly or military matters. Indeed, the only real form of interaction seemed to be when the students placed their orders with the replicators.

"What have you found so far?" Charles asked his sister, very quietly,as they got their food – it did not look pleasant – and they took their seats.

She shook her head and stabbed at the food on her plate with her fork. "Quite a bit, thanks to that survival exercise." She looked up at him. "How about you?"

"Not as much as you, I don't think," he said, and she instantly recognised the mischievous look in his eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped, then realised that Seb and Data were staring at her.

"Come on, _Latuka,_ I'm not an idiot." He smirked.

Her blood was boiling. "I have no idea what you mean. Now, eat your breakfast."

"So… what's Jo'rek really like?" he asked.

Massaging her forehead, she looked up at him. "He is a very talentedand promising young cadet."

But her brother only grinned. To her relief, though, he let the subject go.

"We'll be late, you know," Seb whispered to Charles. "And you're already in Professor Topar's bad books. He'll string you up if you're late again."

"Suppose," he conceded, and he left with Seb, but not before giving his sister one last look.

Data had been watching the conversation unfold with some degree of interest. "I am under the impression that you did not enjoy Cadet Chebais' question."

"Thenyou're under the right impression, and I think you know why," she said to him, as they made their way over to the waste-disposal unit to get rid of their plates. Data was finding the practise of eating quite intriguing.

"I heard some rather unusual noises emanating from your dormitory last night," he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "What sort of unusual noises?"

"A first there were raised voices, and then a lot of movement. And then I do believe both you and Jo'rek raised your voices to ninety decibels."

"You've got very good hearing, I'll give you that."

"We Romulans have always had very sensitive auditory abilities."

She giggled. "Was that an attempt at humour?"

"It was an attempt."

"But, seriously, Data. I need to talk to you. Well, and Charles and Seb, too," she said, her voice becoming calmer and less trivial.

"Perhaps it would be best to discuss this somewhere more private. I shall meet you in my quarters at seventeen-hundred hours, if that is convenient for you."

"Yes. That's fine," she agreed.


	18. Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

It was not quite seventeen-hundred hours when she came to the correct corridor, and so she decided to return to her own quarters for a short while. After all, after a lecture in military logistics, she gathered that she deserved a rest. She keyed in the correct pass-code to open the door, and it slid open with a clean whoosh.

Accordingly, she stripped off her jacket and lay it on the bed, yawning. She was just about to lie down when she became aware of the door to the sanitation room being opened. She pretended to be asleep. But the sound of his voice compelled her to open her eyes.

"I did not know you had a convalescence period now."

She sat up, stroking the back of her head, and she noticed that he was dressed in his exercise uniform. "I don't. But Professor Va'alr isn't here today-"

"I know," he added.

"-And she sent us a message informing us to revise for the test on military history next week."

"I have taken that test. It is not difficult." A pause. "What has happened to your arm?" he inquired, an eyebrow cocked as he leant over her.

She snatched her arm up defensibly. "It's nothing."

"Let me see."

"Really, it's fine."

But he wouldn't leave it be, and she held her arm out. The skin near her elbow had adopted a reddish colour. It had appeared overnight.

"See? It's nothing," she added quickly, pulling her sleeve down over her bruised arm.

Then he sat beside her on the bed, and she was slightly alarmed when the furniture dipped a little where he had positioned himself. "It's not nothing."

"It doesn't hurt."

"You're not a Klingon," he snorted. "It causes you some form of discomfort." Then he bowed his head and exhaled. "I did it."

"Last night..." she began, fading off before she had finished her sentence, though she had no idea as to how she would have finished her sentence.

Evidently, the revelation that he had hurt her – that he had caused her injury – had a bad effect on him.

"It doesn't matter, really," she pressed.

"Of course it does!" he snapped; sweat was forming on his brow. "I can't control myself. I take out my own problems on you."

"Perhaps I provoked you," she said, forming the words carefully. Certainly, she agreed with his side of things. It wasn't acceptable to _attack_ another person. At least, that was her original view point. But, then again, hadn't she incited him? After all, she had implied that he didn't respect the praetor. And that was an offence against the Romulan people.

He let out a bitter laugh. "I know you know that isn't true. What is true is that I don't love my father because hedoesn't love me. His one true consideration is the Romulan people. Just not his son."

His wistful, saddened gaze caused something in Lara's heart to twang. She could not empathise with him, but she could sympathise, surely. She looked up at him and sighed, a sad smile forming on her lips. "You got angry, and I understand."

She could've sworn that a tear was starting to form in his eye, but he had blinked away before its inception. And he was no longer facing her. He was troubled, she knew that much. But she couldn't form her own opinion of the praetor until she had met him. And that seemed quite unlikely, seeing as his position basically prevented him from mingling with lower-rank people. Rank was everything among the Romulans.

"Look, I've got to go now," she said softly. "I said that I'd visit a friend." She made her way to the door. "See you later, Jo'rek."

When she was free from the confusion of that room, she found little to no relief in her brother's room. When she had pressed the comm panel and made herself known, Data's voice had given that simple command: "Come."

"What took you so long?" Charles moaned, his gaze wandering curiously over her person.

She scowled at him.

"Never mind," he said quickly, casting Seb a slightly wounded look, but Seb was only amused.

"I am glad that you could meet with us," Data then began, beckoning for her to take a seat. She did so, delicately. "Now, what is it that you wish to discuss?"

As always happened whenever she was nervous, her finger strayed up to her head to fiddle with her hair. Composing herself, she replied bluntly, "It's Jo'rek." Ignoring her brother's pointed glance, she carried on. "His father is the praetor."

"His father is the _what?"_ Seb spluttered, wide-eyed with amazement. "The praetor? But isn't that who..."

Data shook his head at that, raising a finger. "I understand your confusion. However, it is the proconsul – the deputy, if you will – who we suspect."

"Who we suspect of betraying his people – I mean, _our_ people?" Seb asked, frowning as he spoke. Evidently, he had confused himself with his choice of words, and now he looked lost.

Data's head cocked to one side and he maid a noise of contemplation. "Yes. Now… the proconsul is a gentleman named Vithir."

"Data, you knew who Jo'rek was, didn't you?" Lara asked, looking at him.

"I had an idea," he replied cryptically. "However, Cadet Jo'rek's parentage should hopefully serve us well."

She didn't much like the sound of that.

"So, all we need to do is really get on Jo'rek's good side, and perhaps he can introduce us to his father?" Charles suggested, seeing no other way than that particular course of action.

Lara had her head in her hands, groaning at her brother's short-sightedness. Sensing that all three of them had their eyes firmly focused on her, she gave in. "It won't be that easy."

"Whyever not?" Data inquired, seemingly perplexed.

"Because he doesn't like his father," she replied shortly. "He hates his father."

"What gave you that impression?" Seb asked.

"Jo'rek told me that… that, well, his fatherdoesn't trust him and has no faith in him." The more she thought about it, the sadder it was.

"Ah," Seb gave his whole-hearted reply.

"But the fact that he feels comfortable talking about it with you..." Data began.

Lara stood up suddenly. "Look. I know what you're going to say. You want me to spy on Jo'rek. You want me to get to know him really well. Know his shortfalls and his skills. So that I can worm my way into his affections and then we can get a direct line to the praetor?"

Data nodded, nonplussed. "Precisely."

No amount of sighs would be sufficient, she decided. So she massaged her temples. "I just don't want him to get hurt."

Seb sighed and got to his feet, approaching her. "This is the best way."

"I know it is."

"If we don't find a way to expose the proconsul and the Starfleet minister for what they're doing..."

This was serious. She knew that. "Yes. I'll do it. Whatever it takes."

After a few days with the dreadful knowledge that she would have to continue lying to Jo'rek, Lara thought that it would be hard to make her feel any worse. But she had been thinking rather prematurely. Professor Va'alr's advice to her and her class was still quite fresh in her mind, and she was determined on passing the class. Whatever it took to stand her in good stead. She wondered if Charles and Seb would have a similar approach. Of course they wouldn't: their thinking was to accumulate as much as they could by doing as little as possible.

But try as she might, she was stuck on one question. Her padd and her fellow classmates had not been very forthcoming in offering her any sort of aid, but it was soon becoming second-nature to her to realise that Romulans as a species were not open books.

"Jo'rek?" she asked of him.

At present, his attention was fixed firmly on an object in his hand. It was small and grey in colour, had a discernible trigger and barrel, and Lara fought back the compulsion to shudder when she saw that it was, in fact, a disruptor. She had no idea they were permitted in the academy.

"It's not real, if you're worried," he said with a grin, as if he had read her mind.

She laughed quietly. "Could you help me with this military history work?"

"It depends what the topic is." He put the disruptor model down.

"Specifically, the Earth-Romulan War. I've got it started, but I'm not sure how to continue."

He took her padd and read it through, and as he did so a thoughtful smile formed on his lips. She found herself watching him. Then he raised an eyebrow. "The introduction is very good, but I am not sure if it is a balanced work."

"Balanced? In what way?" she inquired, reading over the work. And then it dawned on her. "Oh."

 _A major interstellar conflict of the twenty-second century, the war between Earth and the Romulans led to much being learnt in the fields of battle tactics and approach. The war itself lasted four years, from 2156 to 2160, and it saw many gallant soldiers fall. United Earth was aided by the Vulcans and the Andorians, though the sheer might of the Romulan Star Empire's forces led to catastrophes across the Quadrant._

Biting her lip, she could do nought but curse herself.

"It seems almost as if you were denying the greatness of our involvement."

"About that..." she began, though no more words were queued up. "I was going for a new perspective."

To her utter dismay – and surprise – he laughed. When he had sobered up, he held her in a stern gaze.

He was right, though. It did seem as though she was backing United Earth and its allies. Of course _she_ would. But a Romulan wouldn't. Then she snatched the padd off of him and slammed it down on the desk, face-down. "I'll come back to it."

"I'm not saying that it doesn't deserve merit," he maintained.

"Thanks," she replied, with a wry smile. "Can I ask you something?"

He considered. "Yes."

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Because I wanted to."

She had to admit; he was attractive. He was not quite the Prince Charming that she had often thought about, but ultimately, she didn't really care. He was intelligent and sensitive but he seemed like a difficult person to figure out. But she liked him. "You…wanted to?"

He did not answer straight away. Instead, he looked down at his feet and then finally directed his gaze up into her eyes. "Yes. I did." he paused. "And I am sorry if that upsets you."

In different circumstances, she might have smiled at his naivete and his sweetness, but she was not able to do this now. She had no idea how exactly Romulans got into relationships – even friendships. Let alone romantic ones. "No, it doesn't upset me. I ought to leave now; the exam's in ten minutes. Thanks for your help." She smiled weakly and then stood up, about to make for the door, when she felt his hand on her arm.

There were something like fear in his eyes; he seemed worried that he would hurt her again. But she did not look scared of him, and he had registered that. Standing before her, he raised his hand and stroked her cheek gently. She nearly started but found something inside of her telling herself to calm down. And so she did. She leant into his touch. He brought his head forwards and downwards and touched his lips to hers, softly and gently, not at all aggressively. She had her arms around his neck, with his hands on her face and her waist. She pulled back after a while, totally shocked.

He looked at her with his enigmatic blue eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but she put her finger to his lips, silencing him. "You're not going to apologise again, are you?"

A wry smile crossed his lips then. "I shall not," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again.

She would have conceded and responded to hisadvances there and then, but time was marching on and she knew that she had a test to get to. A test that she needed to pass. So she pulled back from him and kissed him on the cheek. "I have to go now."

When she had left the dorm and the door had slid safely shut behind her, she felt her heart grow light and dainty; she felt slightly light-headed, a feeling that she had not felt for so long. The smile that was now on her face would have remained for aeons, had the realisation not come to her mind that she would have to lie to Jo'rek. That she would have to use him. She did not think that she could do that.


	19. Trust

"I passed!" she squealed with excitement, just as she stepped over the threshold between the dorm and the corridor. In the corner of the room, she saw Jo'rek offer her a smile of admiration.

"Well done," he said softly, quietly, firmly. "What mark did you get?"

She bit her lip in consideration. "Ninety-four," she answered him. Ninety-four out of one hundred. She didn't think that she had ever scored quite as high as that in any test that she had ever taken, even in the planetary sociology examination at the Academy what seemed like ages ago. "And you?" she inquired, trying to appear disingenuous.

His smile grew wry; he was pleased for her but also slightly irritated. "Seventy-two," he replied.

She considered. "I only did as well as I did because of your help," she reasoned.

He held up a hand, telling her to keep her pandering to herself, but she only frowned and ignored him. "I'm not being sycophantic, Jo'rek. It's the truth. Sometimes I think you underestimate how good you really are." She paused and then reasoned with herself that she was saying the right things. "And if your father doesn't think so, he must be blind."

That comment ostensibly hurt Jo'rek, but Lara had come to realise that Jo'rek was not an open book. Just because he looked hurt did not necessarily mean that he felt that way. "I know," he acquiescedquietly, looking away wistfully.

"Listen, Jo'rek," she began slowly, so that she could give herself time to think her thoughts over. "Chebais, Sevin, Devahk and I were going to go into the town centre today..."

He stared at her blankly.

"And I wondered if you wanted to come with us," she concluded for him.

"Do they know…?" he asked, and his cryptic enquiry confused her somewhat.

"About us?" she clarified. She was nervous of naming the two of them as 'us', but she had no idea what else to say.

He nodded curtly, as he always did. It was when he did that that she most often saw the Vulcan-side of him. It somewhat unnerved her more than his Romulan-side did; Romulans were clearly xenophobic and rude and arrogant and military-obsessed, but one could never tell what a Vulcan was thinking or even feeling.

"I haven't said anything," she said truthfully. "And I won't."

"This is against regulation," he told her. It would not have surprised her if he had mesmerised all of the military academy's legislation. "Our relationship."

She did not doubt it. While romantic relationships amongst cadets at Starfleet Academy were not in breach of regulation, they were advised against, in case it caused a lapse in judgement or loyalty. And loyalty was instrumental to Romulan etiquette.

She bit her lip and sighed sadly. She wasn't even sure of the status of relationship that existed between her and Jo'rek. They had kissed, of course, but not much else. And she had no idea how Romulans viewed such acts.

An hour had passed and Jo'rek had agreed to accompany Lara and her friends on the journey into the town centre. He had made such a trip many a time but the other four were understandably not sowell-versed onthe Romulan-inhabitedmetropolis.

"I still don't quite trust him," Charles muttered; it was under his breath but still audible. Not only had Lara heard, but so had Jo'rek.

Seb elbowed him in the side. "What's it to you?"

Lara had no idea what was going on, but she was conscious that something was going on. Jo'rek was walking closely beside her; whenever he moved, she could feel it. She had the feeling that he wished to hold her hand, but he never could. Not while anyone was looking, anyway. And she had the idea that they were always being watched.

"I used to love coming to the Capital City back on Romulus. It was busy, very busy. But in a nice sort of way. There were people coming from all parts of Romulus, old and young, men and women," Jo'rek said, his voice low and husky, the tone of reminiscing.

Lara cast her gaze over to him and smiled, almost sadly. "It sounds lovely." She wanted so much to tell him about her childhood on Earth. It was a wonderful planet, she thought to herself. There were deserts and plains, forests of steel and forests of trees, great oceans that spread further than the eye could see and miles and miles of roads, railways and lanes. A wistful look overcame her expression, one that she could not hide. "I can still remember Beta Magnus IV. It was often harsh, especially in the winter." She paused, as she tried to recall as much as she could about that planet which she had never actually been to, let a lone live on. "It would get unbearably cold."

He nodded sadly. "But it was home," he added for her.

She returned the affirmation. "Yes, it was."

"I used to go to the Capital with my mother," he said, and now his voice was very quiet. Almost inaudible. He sounded almost ashamed, scared, worried, and she hated to see him like that. "That was ten years ago now. At least."

Lara reached out her hand, eager to calm his nerves and soften the anger that she espied in him. Immediately, he looked away and turned away.

Charles glowered at his sister. He was worried that she would be revealing too much. Of course, he did trust her. He had said as much to her, and he knew that the Academy wouldn't have sent the four of them if they weren't trustworthy. But those facts didn't exactly put him at ease. He could see how Lara looked at Jo'rek – and possibly, how the Romulan looked at his sister – but he didn't want to see it. He felt Seb's eyes fall on him.

"You seem worried," Seb muttered, careful not to draw attention to himself.

Charles shrugged and looked up at him. "I'm not," he replied shortly, before bringing a hand up to massage his ridged forehead. "Okay, I am."

"So must she be," Seb added pointedly, nodding to Lara. "I mean, we've told her to get as much intelligence-" he stopped and laughed at himself, shaking his head. He sounded like a spy. "To get as much intelligence on Jo'rek. But she obviously feels bad about doing that."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "What better way to get close to the _praetor_ than to be friendly with his son?"

Seb nodded. "I accept that, but don't you think… well, it's like we're using her."

"She seems happy enough," Charles conceded.

"Exactly. That's my point. Her and Jo'rek seem genuinely _close."_

Meanwhile, Data, who had been quietly keeping to himself for the majority of their trip, went over to one of the market-stalls. He gestured to the stall-holder, who gave him a nod of encouragement. It perplexed him to see Romulans performing such menial tasks – holding stalls, vending things and chatting to prospective customers – when all that he had heard of them concerned xenophobia, militarism and hatred. But androids weren't prejudiced. He gave the vendor the best smile that he could manage.

"Is that an osol twist?" Lara asked of him; she approached the android-in-disguise, with Jo'rek sauntering along behind her. Charles and Seb had since departed.

Data nodded at her and paid the Romulan vendor the appropriate money. He then gave Lara one of the small sweets. She took it gingerly, smiling as she reminded herself that it was just a normal Romulan treat. She put it in her mouth and pulled a face as she swallowed it. "It's quite bitter," she said, chewing her cheek and pulling a face.

"I like them myself," Jo'rek put in, as he took one from Data's outstretched hand.

While Jo'rek was tucking into the confectionary, Data took Lara aside and gave her a meaningful look. "How are you?"

She bit her lip and considered how to answer his question. At any other time, it would have been easy enough to answer. But now… "I'm as well as can be expected, I guess," she sighed. "It's difficult, you know? I do really… care for Jo'rek. I don't think that I can keep this going. It's so hard to… lie to his face. I feel like such a fraud. Well, I am." She paused; Data's empty eyes offered little help. "He's told me so much. But nothing strategic or that could be used in our mission. I've learnt a lot about his family and his traditions and himself. But really not much about his father. He and his father aren't close, and I don't want to push him."

Data considered quietly and briefly. His eyes flickered quickly from side to side; he cocked his head like a confused dog. "I am attempting to understand."

"Don't worry," she said with a regretful sigh. "I'm sure that if I speak to him properly, I'll be able to find something of use out. After all, his father is such as important figure. And family is so important to Romulans."

"That is true," Data agreed, before gesturing over to Jo'rek, who was still examining the osol twists.

"I will return to the academy now," Data told her, and he headed off in that general direction.

"We're left alone, I'm afraid," Lara said to Jo'rek when he returned.

The young Romulan nodded ingeniously. "I'm not alone," he said to her. "You're here."

That last sentence both endeared and confounded her.

He looked at her with his blue eyes; he was curious. "I still think of when we kissed."

"Which time?" she teased, and he let loose a small smile.

He cocked an eyebrow, trying to seem surprised. "Perhaps we should go back to the academy."

The look on his face with his lowered eyes and his hushed voice told her what his intentions were. For a brief moment, she considered. She wanted to agree to his proposal, but it would be wrong. It would unprofessional. And she couldn't do that to him.

"That would be an idea," she finally settled on saying. "I do need some help with this Engineering."

His face fell at that very moment.

Inwardly, she giggled.


	20. The Liar

After what could have been called a very awkward walk back to their shared dormitory, Lara took off her coat and boots and pulled out a padd. Jo'rek watched her with veiled eyes. The blue in them was darkening, and he did slightly scare her. He was much taller than her, much stronger, and evidently, he was Romulan. She looked like one, but she knew that she was simply a weak female human. That thought did remind her of that day when she had hauled him up to his feet as he dangled helplessly off of the edge of that cliff in their training exercise. But that was a different time.

He turned the lights up; the brightness was unnecessarily intense, and she found herself squinting. Romulans didn't like lights to be too over-the-top, and that knowledge did unnerve her. It was almost as if he was attempting to accommodate for her weaker human eyes.

"What exactly was it that you wanted help with?" he then inquired of her. His face remained disappointed, let down.

She handed him the appropriate padd and he studied it with bored eyes. "It's about Singularities, I think."

"Well, what don't you understand?" he asked, and his tone of voice made her feel stupid.

"The process of confining them, to make artificial ones that can be used in starships," she clarified.

He sat down beside her and drew a quick sketch of a Romulan warbird. She watched intently over his shoulder; her proximity to him made him slightly lose his concentration. He looked back at her, their faces centimetres apart. She gave him an encouraging smile. "I get that much," she said. "But how about that bit?" she asked, pointing to a part of his rough diagram.

He set about explaining it to her, before launching into a lengthy description of the merits of artificial quantum singularities over warp drives. She feigned interest throughout, convincing herself that she needed to keep him occupied. She couldn't use him. Not after he had opened up to her about so much.

As she glanced down to watch his fingers as he pointed to numerous parts of the diagram, her eyes caught on something. Just peeking out of his sleeve, though it was tight fabric, was a small black mark on his wrist. Not wanting to pry, she quickly averted her gaze and looked back at the padd. But he had already seen and it was too late.

"I'm sorry," she said promptly, quietly. "I am listening."

He put down the padd and held the hand that she had been observing. He pulled back the sleeve and she looked on could make out a symbol of some sort; it looked like Klingon script, but she wasn't sure of that. It didn't look like any ordinary tattoo, though, she thought. "Has it been burnt into the skin?" she asked, slightly disgusted.

He nodded simply. "It has. It means 'I will never forget'."

"That doesn't look like our language," she observed. It certainly didn't appear Romulan to her.

"It isn't."

"What is it?" she asked further, as she looked at the tattoo.

"It is written in the Vulcan tongue. Whenever I look at it, I am reminded of my mother."

"I… I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry," she murmured. She felt awful, even more so when she remembered that she was using him. Romulan or not, she wasn't sure that he deserved it.

"There is no need for you to apologise," he said simply. "It was a decade ago, at least. I am no longer sad."

But she knew that that wasn't true. He had this tough exterior – this hard-headed, emotionless, infallible appearance that was present in all Romulans – but that was all it was: an exterior. Underneath that facade, he was smaller, more afraid and in need of help.

He turned from her, and she heard him sniff. He reached his hand up to wipe his nose and his eyes. His temples and cheeks were taking on a deeper, darker shade of green. And then he took in a deep breath and got to his feet. "I am sorry for having appeared so weak."

She started, perplexed. But then she remembered who she was _meant_ to be and she nodded at him sincerely. "That is quite all right. Just remember, in future, that to cry is to show weakness. We are not weak."

"I will not hold it against you if you feel duty-bound to report it."

"Well, I don't," she said shortly, not even thinking.

He raised an arched eyebrow and then frowned. "Why not? You ought to. I expect you to."

She could have laughed. But she sobered up quickly and turned in her seat. She stared down at the padd for the briefest of seconds, before thinking long and hard about what she might say. "Oh, Jo'rek, I'm not going to report you for being un-Romulan."

Her words and her tone of voice startled him, confused him, caught him unawares. She sounded nonchalant; Romulans were never nonchalant.

She could feel her cheeks beginning to get hotter. She wrung her hands as she always did when she was nervous. She closed her eyes, as if she could escape from this awful dream-gone-wrong, but when she opened them, she was once again greeted with the sight of the stark grey dorm and Jo'rek's inquisitive glare. A harrumph erupted from her lips and she could no longer face him. Her heart was beating a million times a minute and she could almost see her pulse in her wrist.

"I need to tell you something."

Jo'rek waveringly took a step forward. His footsteps seemed to Lara to echo. She looked down at her hands as they sat emptily in her lap and then she felt a tear cascade down her face. She would have wiped the tear away had Jo'rek not caught it. "You can tell me."

She looked as if she were deliberating with herself. She had to tell him the truth at some point, but she had no idea how to. And, if she _did_ tell him, how would he take it? He didn't much like his father – she knew that much. But family – with the exception of military prowess – was everything to the Romulans, so she could hardly badmouth his father's administration. She reminded herself then that it was not the _praetor_ who was in the wrong. And then there was the issue of _how much_ to tell him. She didn't have to say that she, Charles, Seb and Data were human. She could just say that she knew of a traitor in the Romulan government. But she calmed herself down with the realisation that Jo'rek was probably going to find out sooner or later. It was a poor plan.

"I'm not Romulan," she murmured. She repeated it in a louder tone. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for you and I… for us to… I'm just so sorry." She looked up at him; his face gave nothing away. "We – I mean, ah, me, Chebais, Devran and Sevin – were selected by Starfleet Academy to go on this mission. For planetary sociology. There wasn't really any espionage involved, honestly. We just had to take notes of what Romulans got up to. Their traditions and ideals. Nothing military or anything like that."

For the entirety of her revelation, he had remained calm and collected and quiet. His eyes were fixed on her. "I know that."

Her mouth fell open in surprise. "You… what?"

He nodded shortly, and the movement only annoyed her and confused her more. "You left your padd in here once, and the screen was left on. I saw your findings."

"You know I'm human?" she finally spoke again, her eyes darting frantically about his person. "You never said. You… we… we kissed."

He gave her a smile. "I know we did." He paused. "And I have no regrets."

She ran her fingers through her hair. She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of her chest. She could breathe again. "I don't understand," she muttered. "I'm human and you're Romulan… No..."

He hunkered down andreached out a hand and held her face; his handswere cold and firm and scared her ever so slightly. But she had grown to trust him.

"Starfleet sent us on this mission for planetary sociology. But we had another reason," she began again. She cast a throwaway look at the door. Beyond it were two of her friends and her brother. She wanted to see Charles. "Data – that's Devahk – he picked up this transmission between the proconsul and someone high up in Starfleet Command."

"And you've come to… investigate it?" he asked.

She nodded sadly. "Yes. And when we found out that your father is the praetor, well… to put it simply, I was meant to get to know you."

At that, he raised an eyebrow. He rubbed his temple.

His unreadable expression scared her. She followed him as he took his hand from her face and walked away from her. "But I swear I didn't want to do that. I hated… using you for this mission. I'm sorry. All I ever seem to be doing is apologising."

He was containing his anger, it seemed. He was keen not to appear as a Klingon or some other passion-driven species. " _Illhusra,"_ he swore. "You _used_ me?" he repeated, flabbergasted, his voice tight and the words spoken through gritted teeth.

She nodded sadly. "Yes, and I'm so sorry for it. I never wanted to. Never..." Her words faded from her and she was silent. She went up to him so that they were mere inches from one another, and she raised a hand to his face, holding his chip. "Jo'rek, you must listen to me."

He fought to shake his head, to shake her away from him. He bit his lip. "Latuka. What is your real name?"

"Lara."

He echoed her name, feeling the syllables glide over his tongue. It made her feel both delighted and scared to hear him say her name. Her proper name.

"Please, Jo'rek, listen to me."

Her pleas did not fall on deaf ears. "I don't have to listen to you, Lara," he said, saying her name again, as if it were some new stylish fad. "I have heard all I need to hear." He looked down at her, with her distraught face. "And I forgive you."

"You _forgive_ me?" she spluttered. "Why? After all I've done."

He cast her an unwavering look. "Because I have fallen in love with you."


	21. Communication

As soon as he had spoken those words to her – those few words – he had made some pitiful excuse about being late for a lecture or wanting to exercise on the pitch or needing to speak to a professor, and then he had left. She sat there on the cold seat for a long while, pondering his words to her. How could he possibly love her? She would question herself for minutes at a time, as the thoughts bounced about in her head. Of course, they were sharing a dormitory, so they were bound to get close at some point. She had somewhat expected that that would happen. But she never usually let herself get into such circumstances. But she didn't regret it.

The chime at the door broke her out of her reverie, whether she wanted it or not. She got to her feet, keyed in the appropriate command and the door slide open. It revealed her brother stood with wide eyes and an inquisitive expression on his face.

She beckoned him in. "Charles!" she observed, sounding thoroughly surprised by his appearance. "What are you doing here?"

Charles gave her a wry smile. "It's nice to see you too," he said, feigning injury. "It's been a while since we had a proper chat, and I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

She smiled, touched by his care for her. "Yes, that would be nice." She gestured to a chair. "Here, sit down. I hope you haven't been trying that Romulan Ale."

Her mocking tone gave him cause to smile slightly. "I haven't. It's Seb that you should be asking. He's managed to get a hold of some. Just a warning: don't go near him when he's had some!"

She raised an eyebrow at his revelation about Seb; the lad wasn't usually like that. But she shook those ideas awayand handed her brother a drink. "Jo'rek's introduced me to this," she said, pointing to the beverage.

He asked what it was, raising an eyebrow, as he inspected the liquid.

"I can't remember the name of it. But it's rather nice."

He took a sip and conceded. Settling it down, he sighed heavily.

"What is it?" she asked pointedly, watching her brother carefully. She had known him for as long as she had been alive, for nigh on twenty years, and in that time, she had learnt to know when something wasn't quite right with him.

"Huh?" He looked up at her.

"What's wrong? I know that there's something up."

He chewed his lip. "Honestly, it's fine." But there was something in his eyes.

"If you say so."

The shortness of her reply made him give in. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll tell you. It's Seb. Well, it's me and Seb. We're going through a bit of a rocky patch. I'm not entirely sure why, but it must be something to do with this mission and whatnot. I don't think he's quite coping." He laughed bitterly. "Well, neither am I."

"I'm afraid the only one who is must be Data," she said with a grim smile.

He cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

She finally stopped pacing and flopped down on the bed, groaning. "I've messed this entire thing up."

Charles leant forward, a frown on his face, his blond hair falling into his eyes.

Without any preamble, without so much as a sigh, she told him. "Jo'rek knows everything."

"Everything?"

" _Everything."_

"Ah," was just about all Charles could manage at that moment. "Where is he? He hasn't gone to tell-"

She shook her head briskly. "No. He wouldn't do that."

"He must trust you, then," Charles observed. "He must like you. Really like you."

That comment would usually have made her more on guard, more edgy, but this time it didn't. A warm glow spread inside of her and she smiled absent-mindedly. "He said he loves me."

Charles spat out his drink and wiped his mouth. "Well… wow..." He smiled to himself.

"What's weird is that I think I might... I don't know... love him too," she moaned, rubbing her forehead.

"But our relationship issues are the least important thing at this moment in time. Am I right?" He got to his feet. "When Jo'rek gets back, we'll have to think of what to do."

"And Seb and Data?"

A muscle in Charles' jaw twitched slightly at the mention of Seb, but he soon controlled himself. "Yes."

A few hours had passed and Jo'rek had returned; upon his arrival, Charles had gathered Seb and Data from their own dormitory. The five of them were now sat in the room that Jo'rek and Lara shared.

"Are you sure about this?" Seb whispered to Charles as he came in through the doorway. Charles looked visibly uncomfortable when Seb came close to him, something that Lara had registered. Seb made a face of annoyance when Charles appeared flustered and he went to sit beside Data; the android totally ignored what was going on.

"Unless there are any objections, should I speak our ideas?" Data suggested, after having supplied everyone with a rather-too-well rehearsed clearing of his throat. When there were no objections, he began. "Jo'rek, it is very noble of you to decide not to reveal our true mission. It is one of peacekeeping. We have the interests of both Starfleet and the Romulan Star Empire in mind."

If he was at all unconvinced, Jo'rek made no attempt to show it. He uncrossed his legs, pursed his lips and considered. "If this… this treachery is going on under my father's nose, then I am duty-bound to report it to him. As the praetor, he is responsible for the well-fare of all Romulans. As a loyal subject, I must tell him of this _illhusra's_ betrayal of everything that is good and proper."

Lara had heard that word before and she knew that it was not pleasant. His manner of pronouncing it had, however, told Charles and Seb of its meaning.

"Jo'rek," Lara spoke slowly and measuredly, giving herself time to think and re-think is possible. "We might have an interstellar war on our hands."

"And so recently after the Tomed Incident," Seb put in, raising an eyebrow pointedly. He cast his gaze over to Charles, who tried to ignore the glance but ultimately failed.

Jo'rek appeared to be considering Seb's reminder. "I do understand the problems. I do not wish for another war between our two peoples." His eyes then clapped on Data. "Robot. What do you think, as an unbiased bystander?"

Data's eyes flicked back and forth when he was referred to as a 'robot'. Not only was he alerted by the label of 'robot' as opposed to 'android', but he was deeply concerned – and amazed – that Jo'rek had realised his true identity. Perhaps he wasn't as human as he liked to think. Once Seb, Charles and Lara had closed their gaping mouths, he gave Jo'rek his reply. "It would be incorrect to think of myself as 'unbiased', because my loyalty is to the Federation and the United Federation of Planets. I am not human, as you have rightly observed, but that does not mean that my opinion can be thought of as 'fair'. Nor am I a bystander, as I am involved all too readily in this ordeal. In fact, it was I who first discovered the clandestine conversations that were transpiring between your proconsul and the Starfleet chancellor."

Jo'rek got to his feet. Before he had reached the door and it had opened for him, he said to the four of them, "I am going to find my father."

Lara swore under her breath. She made her excuses to Charles, Seb and Data, and then she made for the exit, catching her breath as she jogged after him. As they traversed the grey, dark and deserted corridors, he made no effort whatsoever to slow down or stop for her. Once they had left the building itself, she at last plucked up the necessary courage to speak to him.

Planting her feet firmly underneath herself and watching him with intense eyes, she demanded, "What do you think you're doing?"

He ignored her. "Anger is not flattering, nor is it worthwhile. You will step out of my way and I will speak with the praetor."

He kept walking, and they were soon in the market-centre, surrounded by dozens and dozens of Romulans.

"What, and you're going to get a transport at this late notice and somehow fly to Romulus?" she questioned; she appeared collected, but she had no doubts that he might hijack a shuttle and leave the planet.

Jo'rek gave her a mean, wry smile. "I won't have to. If you had done your research properly, you'd know that the Senate regularly dispatches delegations to occupied imperial planets."

Lara's jaw fell. But she didn't give up. "Please, Jo'rek. If you speak to him, who knows what he'll say. How do you even know that he'll believe you? You can't risk it. _We_ can't risk it."

" _We?"_ he repeated, a pointed eyebrow cocked.

"Yes. Us."

He shook his head and laughed bitterly. He looked at her, his gaze stern and unyielding at first, but then he caught sight of her beautiful face, and he was forced to resign his anger. Hands on his head, he groaned. "I need to do this."

"No, you _don't."_

"Yes, I do," he maintained. Tentatively, he reached out his hand and touched her cheek briefly. She leant into his touch, trying to persuade him not to do anything that he might regret. But all he did was kiss her forehead, and then he was gone.

Lara couldn't keep running after him; she knew that. So she could just stand there, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the market-place, as she watched his dark, lithe form disappear into the darkness beyond.

"Will you _talk_ to me?" Seb pleaded with Charles.

The young man remained impassive, despite having had the same question put to him about three times previously. He did not shake his head, he did not make eye-contact, he did not swear and he did not pace.

"Charles, please," Seb continued, desperation – the desperate need for change and forgiveness and moving-on – evident on his face.

Charles could not ignore Seb's handsome, searching face, disfigured by Romulan cosmetics though it was. "I can't even look at you, Seb. Not after what I did."

"It's fine. It doesn't matter," Seb said shortly, but his voice was strained and shaky and the words certainly did not betray his true feelings.

Charles shook his head vehemently and rubbed his temples wearily, as if the friction could erase the shame that he felt. "I should never have-"

Seb sighed heavily, reminding himself that Data was across the other side of the room satisfactorily preoccupying himself with finding out the locations of the transports. "I really don't care. It's all in the past."

Charles rolled his eyes. "It was barely a week ago. I've done you wrong. How can you possibly want to _forgive_ me?"

Seb shrugged, but he wasn't feeling so nonchalant. "I don't care. I just hate it when we argue. Of course, it's been difficult, us two being on this planet, and you know… But, we'll be going back to Earth soon. Very soon, by the looks of things." He nodded over to Data.

Charles frowned. "Seb, I kissed someone else!" he hissed, unable to control his emotions any more. "I have no idea why I did it and I can't turn back time." He laughed at himself. "What's worse is that I kissed a Romulan! Who knew?" He was no longer speaking in a lowered volume and Data had lifted his head up from the computer console.

Seb reached out to take Charles' hand, and he finally succeeded. "I do not care," he said, pronouncing each word carefully. "I forgive you. I'm just as much to blame. I shouldn't have dabbled in Romulan Ale."

"It's hardly the same thing," Charles maintained.

Seb took Charles' face in his hands. "I don't care. It's in the past, now. Let's forget about it."

"I am sorry to interrupt," Data said plainly, bringing out a padd. "But it appears that Admiral Tucker has been trying to contact us."

Without a moment's thought, Charles and Seb broke off their argument, knowing full-well that there were far more pressing issues at hand. Charles walked over to Data, leaning over his shoulder. "What is it? Did he say?"

"At present, the admiral is making a transmission," Data replied.

"Can we reply? I mean, is it an encoded signal? What if the Romulans notice something?" Seb asked.

Data shook his head. "I am sure that the admiral has encrypted the signal. We should respond." Seeing that the other two cadets had agreed with a nod, Data pressed a few keys on the padd, and then the Okudogram disappeared and was replaced with a live-feed of Admiral Tucker sat at his desk back in San Francisco, his hands forming a steeple on the table.

"Cadets!" he greeted them, pleased that they were alive and well. He had not heard from them since they had left for the mission. "Ah. Where is Cadet Garfield?" Seeing Charles' raised eyebrow, he added, "Your sister."

"She's... uh... She's in class at the moment. Something about artificial singularities, I think," Charles quickly put in.

The admiral smiled, apparently satisfied with that response. "I do not have long to talk with you, cadets," he continued. "This is an encrypted signal, so don't worry about it being detected. The Romulans don't trump us in _all_ things. But I wonder if I can get used to seeing you with pointed eyebrows and ears." He allowed himself a small laugh. "I trust all is going well? How much have you learnt about Romulan culture? It must be very rewarding to observe their politics and beliefs firsthand."

"Oh, yes, Sir," Seb chimed in, a smile plastered on his face. "Very rewarding! We are composing a report." He faltered, caught up in his lie.

Data realised his discomfiture and broke in. "Yes. Admiral, would you like us to forward a copy of our report to you?"

The admiral pursed his lips in thought. "No, not now. You've not got much longer out there, have you? A month or so, if I'm not mistaken." He paused. "Make sure that you back up the file, and then bring it with you on your return."

"Of course, Admiral," the cadets agreed.

"Godspeed," Tucker added, before cutting the transmission short.

"We just lied to the Admiral," Seb muttered.

"Again."


	22. The Fallen

Jo'rek burst into the council building. It was only small, being but a temporary holding for the Senate on the move, but that didn't detract from its majesty. To any human it would be analogous to walking into Ancient Rome in its heyday, with politicians and orators sweeping about the place in their imperial togas and tunics. But Jo'rek didn't care much for spectacle; he had another goal. As he swept through the corridors, a silence engulfed him. The council was not in session and, as such, no noise was emanating from the hallways.

He held his breath, trying to persuade himself that he was about to do the right thing – the right thing not only for himself but for his entire people. With the weight of Romulus on his shoulders, he went up to the door guard, who had been watching his person for some time with curious eyes.

"My name is Jo'rek. I am the son of Praetor Jirruit."

The guard nodded and grunted out some sort of reply. His grey eyes narrowed at the boy. "Yes?"

Jo'rek sighed impatiently. "I need to speak to the praetor. This is urgent."

"The praetor is not to be disturbed, you will understand," the guard maintained, unflinching.

Jo'rek, who was shorter than the guard and certainly not as broad or menacing-looking, was about to acquiesce. But something told him not to give up just yet. "No," he said abruptly, with a shake of his head. "This is very important. Now, I am the praetor's son, so _let me in!"_

He took his chances. The guard seemed ever so slightly dazed; he was impressed and caught unawares by the youth's bravery. Jo'rek brushed past him, the door slid open with a slight hiss, and he found himself in the office of the praetor. Harsh colours and jagged furniture caught his eye, but he remained calm.

The man in the chair caught his eye but did not speak or move at first. A female Romulan who was not in military dress was stood beside him. Jo'rek narrowed his eyes and shifted unsteadily on his feet. The woman was beautiful but her comely features were sharp and cold. Her eyelids were darkened greatly with some sort of cosmetic substance, and her dress was less than suitable. She cast a look down at the man sat in the black chair; he gave her a look, something that was closer to lasciviousness than kindness, and then she floated past Jo'rek and was gone.

The young cadet cleared his throat and gathered his thoughts. He regarded his father with stern eyes. The man stood up from his chair and circled the desk.

"Father," Jo'rek said the word loudly, firmly; he would not appear weak. As disgusted as he was by his father's total lack of respect for his lost mother, he knew that he couldn't let it show. That would only weaken him.

"Son." The praetor folded his arms over his chest, as if waiting for him to say something meaningful.

Jo'rek took a step forward. "I need to tell you something, father."

"It had better be important," Jirruit snapped. "I'm very busy."

 _I'm sure you are,_ Jo'rek had wanted to say back, but he didn't. "I've become aware of some very sensitive news, and I think that you ought to know about it."

"Out with it, then."

Jo'rek stayed his anger. "Your proconsul is trading state secrets with the Federation."

At that, the praetor burst out laughing. Jo'rek stared at him, wordless. Jirruit sobered. "Is he now?"

Jo'rek failed to see what exactly was funny. His entire people's honour and intelligence was at stake, and here was the Romulan leader _laughing_ at the very prospect of it! "Father, will you listen to me?" he pleaded. "This is important."

"Fine, I'll hear you out." The praetor leant against his desk, squarely in front of his son. "Where did you acquire this knowledge from?"

Jo'rek pursed his lips. The last thing that he wanted to do was to drop Lara in it, to endanger her. But he couldn't see any other course of action. What else could he do? "At the academy, the military training academy."

Jirruit raised an arched eyebrow, his dark eyes growing wide. "At the military academy?" he echoed, rolling the words over his tongue. He was very dubious, and understandably so. The planet was not a particularly large one, and nor was it important. It was in the middle of nowhere and held little strategic value. What a strange place it was that apparently held the future of Romulus in its hands. "Are you going to elaborate?"

Jo'rek paused in his thoughts. "I…" He shook his head. "Some cadets that I've grown familiar with… they told me."

The praetor rubbed his temples with his fingertips, evidently starting to get annoyed. "Yes, and how did they learn about this? Because if this is one of your silly-"

Frustrated, Jo'rek shook his head furiously. "No, it isn't," he retorted. "Listen to what I have to say. They heard this transmission between the proconsul and this Federation deputy." He made himself spit out the word 'Federation'.

"What did this transmission say?"

"I don't know for sure," he said, and he could see his father's face fall. "But," he quickly picked up. "It involved the swapping of military and special intelligences. So, while the Federation Chancellor would give Proconsul Lekar some Starfleet inside knowledge, he would get similar things in return."

"This is foolishness. I have known Lekar nearly all of my adult life. Long before you were even born," he declared, shaking his head vigorously.

"Father-" Jo'rek began again.

"No," he said defiantly. "I shan't hear any more of it."

Jo'rek frowned.

Jirruit held up a hand to silence anything else that his son might have to say. He had heard enough for one day. "That's enough stupidity."

Jo'rek laughed bitterly. _"_ _Stupidity?"_ he repeated, a confused looked on his face. "Call it what you want. If you don't act on this, then I guess I will." His face darkened. He made for the door but then paused.

"Was there anything else?" Jirruit asked wearily. His gaze flickered over to the door; not because he was watching his son leave but because he was expecting the return of his lady-friend.

Jo'rek spun on his heel and faced his father, before he found himself marching over to the older man. With a wry smile on his face, he said simply, "No. I think I'll leave you to it. No doubt you're very busy." He feigned looking through the window. "Actually, I think I can see your _amton'wi'kha_ returning."

Jirruit growled some sort of curse word.

Suddenly growing very angry, Jo'rek shook his head. "If Mother could see you now, what would she say? How _dare_ you insult her memory in such a degraded way?"

The praetor, for a moment at least, was lost for words. "You have a nerve to call me – your father – out on such a thing. Don't think that your professors haven't been filling me in on this particularly 'close' relationship you've got with a certain cadet. What's her name?" He pretended to think, rubbing his chin. "Latuka. Ah, yes."

Somewhere inside of Jo'rek, a fire burned. He swore and glared at his father. "Don't you talk about her. You know nothing. I'm doing this for Romulus! For the Empire!"

His father laughed. "For the Empire?" he echoed, laughing bitterly. "You know nothing about what it means to be Romulan."

Those words would have hurt him, but he didn't care much any more.

"Your mother was part-Vulcan. Had I known that, I would never have married her and you would never have been born. But that's in the past, and it can't be changed."

The coldness of his father's tone of voice had hurt Jo'rek, but he was used to it. He held back a flinch and rounded on his father. "I suppose you'll want to know the truth about Latuka and I, won't you?" It felt strange to call her 'Latuka'; he knew that that wasn't her name, and he longed to call her by her real name, human or not.

"You can defend her all you want," Jirruit said with a dismissive wave of a large hand. "No doubt I already know what I need to know. You'll say you're in love." He snorted derisively. "What do you know about love? It's a phase, that's all. And Romulus help me if you plan on marrying her! From what I understand, she's a nobody. We have very few files on her. You disgrace your name, your father and your people."

Jo'rek shook his head bitterly and rounded on his father, but in a quiet tone of voice. "Her name is not Latuka. She's called Lara. And she's human."

Spittle flew from Jirruit's laughing face. He tutted and shook his head. "She's human?" For a moment, he seemed overcome with a sea of rage. But then he quickly settled, smiling coldly. "Yes, of _course_ she is."

"It's the truth," Jo'rek said simply, waiting for the news to settle in his father's mind.

"Get out."

Jo'rek stayed put.

"Get out." This time, the voice was harsher, firmer, louder. Jirruit reached over to his desk and pressed a command button. Jo'rek knew what he was doing. He was alerting the Senate. There would be a manhunt. He backed out of the office without sparing his father a parting look, and ran as fast as his legs would carry him back to the military institution. He had no idea if Lara would be waiting for him, if he had gone too far, if there was no hope. Thoughts raced around the young Romulan's head. If there had been any hope, any flicker of a chance, then he had just killed it. The humans – and the android – would be hunted down by soldiers. And Romulan soldiers were ruthless. Who knew? Perhaps the Tal Shiar was involved. After all, planetary security was at risk.

Jo'rek entered the dormitory, the one that belonged to Lara and him, but there was no one there. _"_ _Hnaev,"_ he swore, kicking the wall. The sound ricochetted around the room, and then he was swallowed by the silence. Then he saw a piece of paper lying dejected on the table. He snatched it up and scanned the scrawled writing fervently with his eyes.

 _Jo'rek,_

 _If you're wondering why we're not in the dorm, it's because we've gone to find a transport. We had_ _to leave; there was no other choice. We've been contacted by Starfleet but we don't see what else we can do. Don't come after us, or you'll only get into trouble. I accept that you've told your father, so don't worry about that. You've probably done us a favour._

 _Love, Lara._

He shook his head and screwed up the piece of paper, stuffing it in his pocket, and then he took one last glance at the dorm before leaving and hearing the door hiss furiously shut in his wake.

He knew where the transport ships were, and he set off immediately in that general direction, pushing his way impatiently past the many bumbling people making their way through the busy streets. They shouted curses at him, annoyed and confused by his recklessness, but he didn't care. He only cared for one thing, for one person, and she was in danger. Danger that he had put her in.

The sound of artificial quantum singularity engines – that trademark hum and buzz and whir – met his ears. In the distance, on the horizon, he could see the landing pads. As he jogged up to the station, shielding his eyes from the parent star's obscenely bright rays, he called out, "Lara!"

Her head poked out of a transport; the ship had evidently not even commenced its lift-off procedure yet. It was not the Lara that he knew, though. Her cropped hair had been replaced by longer, lighter locks; her eyebrows were no longer swept upwards in arches; her skin was more so pink than green. She was human. That brought a slight warmth to his heart; they must have waited for him. For all of the words in her letter, she obviously cared for him, and she didn't want to leave him behind. But he wondered if she would ever forgive him.

He had not seen the officers rising up from the horizon, behind the installation, disruptors in hand. His senses had been dimmed, for he was too busy looking at Lara, too busy wondering what might happen.

A sea of phrases became apparent to his ears and he knew that it might then be the end.

" _Hyaa-aifv-hnah!"_ came the order. Fire disruptors.

Jo'rek's eyes widened. He saw Lara, Charles, Seb and Data watching him from the transport. He raised his hand, waving for them to leave. "Don't wait for me!" he yelled, above the screech of disruptor-fire and barking military orders. He cursed his father. "Go!" And then he was stopped in his tracks. He fell to the muddy ground, the rocks thrown up by the engines of so many launching and landing craft scraping through his uniform and into his skin. He looked down at his thigh and winced; the area was slowly becoming green, seeped in gushing blood. "Lara, you have to go!" he yelled, his desperate eyes piercing into hers. But by the time he finished the sentence, his voice was vague and quiet.

His urges were ignored. Lara gasped and glanced at Charles and bid him wait for Jo'rek. Charles cast her a pained look; they had to go _now._ She placed a hand on her brother's and looked at him pointedly. If it were Seb, he would wait for him.

Seb looked at Data; the android was sat patiently, with calculations concerning their prospects of getting away safely occupying his head. "Data," Seb said to him in a hushed voice. "Stop anyone from coming after me."

The android flickered him a quick understanding with his amber eyes, and then Seb jumped out of the transport and bolted over to where Jo'rek had fallen. The soldiers were advancing on them now, and the shuttle wouldn't stay hovering forever.

Inside the craft, Charles rounded on Data. "How could you let him go? How _could_ you?" he accused Data. His eyes wandered to the back of the craft, and he could do nothing but watch helplessly as Seb – _his_ Seb – walked into the crossfire of phasers and rifles and disruptors.

Seb had finally reached Jo'rek, whose wound was now bleeding profusely. "Go back!" Jo'rek ordered him through gritted teeth. "Leave me here. I've done enough."

Seb shook his head and hunkered down and gathered Jo'rek's failing body in his arms. Jo'rek was heavy, but not too heavy. The pair of them were perhaps five metres from the shuttle when Seb felt the ground beneath him leave his feet. He was walking on air, on nothing, and as soon as his brain had registered that, he crumpled to his knees, and soon his chest was nothing but a red mass of blood and gore. The disruptor shot had gone right through his clothing, through his skin, through to the muscle and bone.

Startled, Jo'rek span around and saw that Seb was lying on the ground. The man's eyes were dimming slowly but surely, his breathing was rapid and haggard, his limbs had gone limp and unmoving, and Jo'rek knew what was going to happen. Still clutching his injured leg, he met Seb's eye. The force of the disruptor blast had thrown Seb heavily to the ground and he had cut his face on a piece of rock; through the gash, Jo'rek could just about make out Seb's true, human appearance.

"I'm sorry," Jo'rek muttered. It was a strange feeling, a strange thing for a Romulan to say. They were not a species who often apologised. But Jo'rek had meant it.

Seb managed a grim smile. "Don't mention it." Then he groaned out in pain; he would have liked to have caught Charles' eye, to have apologised and set things right, but there was no time for that. He opened his mouth and whispered something but Jo'rek couldn't hear, so he bent down, his ear to Seb's mouth.

"Tell Charles that I forgive him." Seb's final words met Jo'rek's ears. The Romulan was indeterminably confused, but he was an honourable man and he intended to deliver the message.

Gathering up the last of his strength, then, he closed Seb's now-glassy eyes and limped, braving phaser-fire and threats from his people's military, into the back of he shuttle. And, as he was running to the shuttle, he had a horrible feeling wash over him. He was leaving his planet, his people behind. He was leaving the past behind for a new, unknown future, and he didn't know how to feel. The engine started again and the craft lifted itself up off of the launchpad. The door banged shut behind him, almost catching his foot, and Data hauled him successfully to his feet.

Data scanned Jo'rek's wounded leg with a tricorder and nodded to himself. "It is only superficial."

Jo'rek could have laughed, but any chance of that was scuppered when Lara pressed her lips urgently to his. "Thank God you're safe," she whispered. Jo'rek pushed her gently off of himself and he gestured to Charles, who was sat absently, removed, quietly, at the flying console, his hands dancing blindly over controls. He had not seen what had happened. He did not know.

Data, determined to be of some further use, transferred the control of the craft to himself and positioned himself beside Charles. Charles looked up and saw who was missing. He saw that Seb was missing. He rounded on the Romulan. "Where is he? Where's Seb?" he demanded, pre-eminent tears already beginning to cloud his vision.

Jo'rek, his hand on his wounded leg in an attempt to stem the bloodflow, shook his head. With a solemn face, he met Charles' distraught gaze. "I'm sorry. He- he didn't make it."

Charles stared at Jo'rek after this revelation for a long time. It didn't make sense. He had only been talking to Seb a few minutes before, and now he would never talk to him again. He staggered backwards and wiped away the tears that were permanently falling from his eyes. Lara put her hand on her brother's shoulder. He shrugged it off. "Leave me alone," he said shortly.

Lara sighed sadly; she couldn't help but feel ever so slightly guilty that Jo'rek had survived and Seb had not.

"Seb did not have to come after me," Jo'rek said bluntly as he stepped forward, unaware that he was being insensitive.

Charles shot him an angry glance, and he left the cockpit fully in Data's capable hands. Instantly on his feet, he cornered Jo'rek, not caring if the man was wounded or not.

"He _did,_ though," Charles said through a nearly-clamped jaw. "Because that's the kind of person that he is- was." He caught himself and held in a breath. "You're right. He didn't _have_ to save you. To _rescue_ you. A Romulan who _needs_ rescuing; what sort of a joke are you?" He grinned, in spite of himself. "He shouldn't have gone. You're right about that. He ought to have left you. And now, because of _you,_ he is dead." He droned off and hunkered down to the floor, as he brought his hands up to massage his weary head. "You should have died."

Lara gave Jo'rek an encouraging look. The Romulan advanced slowly, non-threateningly, on Charles. "He told me to tell you that he forgives you."

The shuttle was gathering speed now. They had left the _hidden planet's_ atmosphere and had escaped its magnetic field. Having survived a bit of gravitational turbulence and numerous shots fired from Romulan phasers and disruptors and rifles, the little craft had come into its own. It would not be long before they could advance from impulse power and get into a higher gear. Unlike Federation shuttle craft, Romulan ones were easily capable of achieving a greater velocity. Some of them could even do warp factor five. The transition into super-light speed was slightly bumpy, no doubt because of the injuries that the craft had endured at the hands of the firing Romulans.

Stars became strips and streaks of white light. They no longer glittered and sparkled but became distorted and strange. "It really is beautiful," Lara mused, agape and amazed. Jo'rek had merely grunted at her observation, obviously still in pain from his injury.

She cast her gaze down to her brother, who was still very much despondent and detached. He hadn't even heard his sister's remark about the landscape. And to be quite frank, he wouldn't have cared if he had. He drummed his fingers on the side of the ship; the metal twanged at his touch.

"Look, Charles, I'm really sorry. I am. But we'll get through this," Lara said softly, coming over to sit by him.

His face was still streaked with tears. His hair was still ruffled. His eyes were bleary and blurry, but he didn't care. "Leave me alone," he muttered.

"Charles, please," she began. She wanted so much to make it all right. But she knew that she couldn't, deep down. "You'll - we'll - get through this."

"How _can_ I get through this?" Charles declared, turning to face her, urgent fury written on his face. "Here we are, flying away. We're escaping! And where is Seb? Where! He's lying covered in mud on some godforsaken alien planet, surrounded by killers, and I never got to tell him that I love him!"

Lara could bear it no more. She held out her hands and gathered the despairing young man into her arms. He convulsed and fought but eventually came down and rested his head on her shoulder, sobbing gently and quietly.

"Are all humans this emotional?" Jo'rek asked Data; the two of them were sat at the flying console, keeping tabs on their position and keying in their destination.

Data thought for a moment, turning the question over in his mind. "It would be impossible and futile to make such a generalised assumption. However, I do believe that the majority of human beings do place high value on showing emotions. For example, the Ancient-"

Jo'rek shook his head. "That's enough." He sighed as he glanced at Lara. She returned his look, and Charles waved at her dismissively. "Go on. Go to him. I'm sure they need help with something or another."

Lara bowed her head sadly and met with the two pilots, leaving her brother to his own mournful devices at the back of the ship.


	23. Repercussions

They had hailed Starfleet Headquarters asking for immediate help once they had escaped Romulan space, traversed the Neutral Zone, and returned to Federation space. The Romulans, it seemed, had given up on chasing after them, but if they were not careful there would only be war waiting for them. The Romulans didn't much like _engaging_ in war. They liked to _observe_ it. If they could engage in cold, rather than hot, war, then they would take that option.

Lara bit her fingernails nervously, Jo'rek tapped his foot. Data and Charles, meanwhile, were impassive, but for very different reasons.

"What if Starfleet don't give us clearance?" Lara pondered out loud, eager for his worried mind to be put to rest.

Data furrowed his brows. Hie golden eyes scanned right and left quickly. "I will hazard a guess," he then said, looking at her. "We will most likely be captured by the Romulans, then tortured and executed. I have also heard reports of the Orion Syndicate operating nearby. Even if we do get clearance, we will likely have to return Jo'rek to the authority of his people, unless he requests political asylum. If he does not do that, he likely will be tried and executed for desertion."

At the sound of that, Jo'rek tried not to look concerned. He may have been Romulan, but he was still capable of fear. And he was feeling the harsh truth of that now. He knew of his planet's torture methods; they were some of the most feared in the galaxy. He doubted that even the ruthless Cardassians could have rivalled the Romulans' tactics for information extraction. He believed that he could have coped with the torture, and being the son of a nobleman, his sentence would most likely not have been too severe. Both his friends, and Lara in particular, would not have been so lucky. He would not let Lara be punished, human or not.

"I guess we had better hail Starfleet Command, then," Lara suggested. She cleared her throat and put herself forward. Jo'rek gave her his seat, and then he went to stand at the back of the transport, along with Charles. "I don't mind making the call." She could see that her brother was not – and wouldn't be any time soon – any fit state to talk to anyone about such a serious matter. She looked up at Data, though, and he raised a finger.

"Are you comfortable with that?" Data inquired.

She gave him a nervous smile. "I don't mind. And besides, I don't suppose you could do it because, well, they might not trust you." She read that over in her head and then bit her lip, embarrassed. "Oh, I didn't mean it like _that."_ She sighed, but Data gave her a look which let her know that he understood her meaning.

"Here goes, then," she sighed, as she keyed in the hailing frequency for Starfleet Command. They had just reached Federation airspace, so she knew that there shouldn't be any technical issues with contacting them.

"Hello," she started, almost instantly faltering over her words. "This is Cadet Lara Elizabeth Garfield of Starfleet Academy. My serial number is 0087-1638A2. Do you copy?"

There was a bit of static and then came the monotonous reply. "Confirm: you are a Starfleet cadet?"

Lara cleared her throat. "I am, yes. Would you like me to repeat my serial number?"

"No need," said the voice on the other side, originating from somewhere light-years away in safe space. "We have checked it through our system and it appears genuine."

 _That's because it is,_ Lara thought.

"Your vessel is giving off Romulan signatures, I am detecting a Romulan biosignature onboard your shuttle. Are you a prisoner?"

"No. Not as such." She frowned, very unhappy with herself. She wished that she was better under pressure. "I and the rest of my shuttle's complement were involved in a top secret mission for Starfleet." She groaned. "Look, could I speak with Admiral Tucker? He knows all about this."

"I don't-"

She cut in. "Please. This is really important. It concerns planetary and Federation safety. God, even _galactic_ safety!"

The man at the other end of the line was quiet for some time, no doubt thinking this over and consulting with his colleagues and superior. He had reason to do so; Lara's request and reasoning were very strange. Why would an esteemed, distinguished admiral like Tucker trust a group of _cadets_ with a mission as important as this? Finally, he returned, and Lara listened eagerly.

"I will patch you through to Admiral Tucker. Over." The line went dead for a bit, and then Lara heard Admiral Tucker's much-missed voice.

"Cadet Garfield?" came his voice, all the way from his San Francisco office.

Lara breathed a sigh of relief. "Admiral! Thank God! I - we - really need to speak with you. This is a matter of extreme urgency."

"Urgency?" he questioned. Though she could not see it, the admiral had set down his cup of tea and was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Yes, Sir. I don't know if it's safe to speak what I really need to say on this frequency because who knows might be listening? You sent myself, my brother, Cadet Richards and Cadet Data on this planetary sociology information-gathering mission a few months ago. But we gathered more information than I feel we should have. Well, you see… we weren't entirely honest with you when you contacted us earlier. Please, can we transport down and speak with you in person?"

Throughout that entire exchange, the admiral had been shaking his head in wonder and confusion. He dreaded what his future conversation with this cadet would hold. He coughed. "I'll need to clear this first but I'll see what I can do. You are one of our best cadets, and I trust you. Hang in there." The admiral had not noticed that one cadet was missing, or that there was a real Romulan onboard the shuttle.

The line went dead then. Lara exhaled loudly and sank back in her chair. She glanced round at her passengers. "I am so not looking forward to this," she moaned.

"He did sound sincere, though," Jo'rek opined. "My aims are the same as yours, the same as Starfleet's. I want peace as much as you do."

"Jo'rek's right," Charles piped up, finally lifting his eyes from the floor. "If we hadn't done anything, this conspiracy could have destroyed both the Romulan Star Empire and the Federation's hopes of peace. We could be at war right now, or imminently."

Data nodded in agreement. "A very sensible argument."

Charles glanced over at his sister. "Well done. You spoke well." He offered her a tiny smile.

Lara smiled back at him. "Thanks. We'll just have wait and see now."

Admiral Tucker was pacing furiously, a cup of black coffee in his hand. He was shaking his head, he was muttering under his breath, and he was very confused. And Data, with his acute sense of hearing, could detect the faintest whispers of curses. Finally, the admiral stopped, span on his heel and perched on the end of his desk. The San Francisco sun streamed in through the wide windows, illuminating him.

"Let me get this straight: there is a conspiracy theory which involves both the Romulan Senate and our very own Starfleet Command?" he enquired, pinching the bridge of his nose. He cast a critical gaze over at the Romulan stood before him. "Am I correct?"

Jo'rek just about managed to maintain his outward appearance of being composed. "You are."

"Yes, Sir," Lara intervened, stepping over to appeal to Tucker. "You see, before we were even chosen for this mission, Cadet Data accidentally stumbled across a secretive conversation between the Romulan proconsul, Lekar, and the Starfleet chancellor, Johnson. From what we could understand, it appears that Lekar and Johnson were working together. The proconsul would give Johnson Romulan state secrets, and Johnson would similarly return the favour."

"And what did you actually _do_ when you were installed at this academy on the _hidden planet?"_ Admiral Tucker inquired, still very much trying to take it all in.

"We did try to fulfil the aims that you had given us. We tried to stick to the brief. But, truthfully, we only decided to go on this mission so that we could learn more about the conspiracy," Data added. "If you are to hold anyone responsible, then I advocate for it to be myself, as I was the one who intercepted the transmission and made this aware to the other cadets."

Tucker held up a hand and Data quietened down. "And where do you fit in?" he asked Jo'rek.

"My father is the praetor," Jo'rek said simply. He regarded the admiral sharply. "But it is my opinion, despite whatever misgivings I might have for my father, that he knew nothing of this treason. I had noticed that something was strange with the way that the proconsul was conducting himself, and my concerns were warranted."

Tucker nodded in understanding. "This is very, very serious. The last time that we were at war with the Romulan Star Empire, the repercussions were extremely severe. I'd wager that most human beings alive today lost an ancestor to that conflict." It was then that he wondered if he himself was to blame; after all, he had sent these young cadets on this mission, and one of them had not returned. The admiral knew that he would have to tell Cadet Richards' parents that he had died. Of course, the parents of Starfleet members knew that there was risk, but Sebastian Richards was only a cadet. He was not a commissioned officer, and never should have been in life-threatening danger. But that was what life in Starfleet was all about, and Sebastian had known that.

Eventually, Admiral Tucker dismissed them. Jo'rek was to remain in Starfleet custody, but Lara, Data and Charles had accompanied him to the holding cell.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" she asked her brother in a hushed voice. Data stood back.

Charles rubbed the back of his neck, sighed, and composed himself just about. "I'm sure I'll be fine, in time."

Lara gave him a sympathetic smile, and then she put her arms around him, looping them around his neck. "If you need me, I'm always here. There'll probably be a trial and we'll all have to speak, even Jo'rek, I suspect. And the chancellor will be court-martialled. I dread to think what sort of horrible punishments awaits the Romulan proconsul." In her mind, she was reminded of the execution methods that were used in Medieval England and Ancient Rome to punish traitors. She shivered. "But do know that Seb didn't die in vain. He prevented a war."

The corners of Charles' mouth curled upwards into a small smile. "And I was wrong about Jo'rek." The Romulan's ears pricked up at the sound of his name. Then Charles turned to Data and approached him, slapping a hand on his shoulder. Data flinched and studied him curiously.

"Let's leave them to it, eh?"

Data apparently understood Charles' point and nodded. "Yes. The next time that we see them may very well be at the trial."

Left alone, Lara looked at the security guard who was standing stoically in the corner. "Is this really necessary, the security field?"

The guard regarded her and nodded. "Orders," he said simply.

"He's hardly going to run away, is he?" She was almost about to let loose and reveal everything to this guard, but she stopped herself. "Look, please."

The guard pursed his lips and then pressed the command panel. The security field buzzed and shimmer out of existence. "Only for a minute or two and then I must put it back up. The prisoner is not to step out of the cell; you must go in."

Lara did not need telling twice. She stepped up and into the cell and was delighted when Jo'rek pulled her into his arms. She kissed him and he soon relaxed into her embrace. Then he groaned and she pulled back, concerned. "What is it?" she asked him, her eyes searching his.

"My leg, it is still causing me trouble," he said honestly, no longer caring to hide his pain.

Lara laughed softly. "That won't be for much longer." She sighed, and he reached up to touch her face. "Will you claim asylum?"

"I should think so."


	24. The Finale: To Absent Friends

**Some months later…**

The assembly hall was filled to capacity. There was not one seat spare. The heat of the San Francisco sun was beating down on those sat in the assembly hall. Some had taken to fanning themselves with the programmes. Others were simply suffering in silence. The hall was eerily silent for a long time, before a male figure made his way onto the stage. His shoes clacked on the wooden floor and his steps were measured and deliberate. The attendees all clapped when they saw who had stepped onto the stage. It was the President of the United Federation of Planets. Hikaru Sulu.

"Ladies and gentleman, deserving cadets, proud parents and distinguished visitors," the man began, after clearing his throat and surveying the room. "Welcome to Starfleet Academy's Annual Recognition Assembly. For those of you who haven't attended one of these ceremonies, this is Starfleet's platform for celebrating those cadets in out academy who have gone beyond what is expected of their rank, and these celebrations are reserved for the rare few. In fact, the only cadet in Starfleet's two-hundred year history to have had the privilege of receiving two awards in one of these ceremonies is James Tiberius Kirk." He cleared his throat and smiled at the front row of the audience, casting his mind back both to the great service of the cadets, and also back to his time serving under the great Admiral Kirk.

"Right, and now for the interesting bit," the admiral continued. "In alphabetical order, can Cadet Data stand up and make his way to the stage?"

The android got to his feet in one swift movement, wearing his ceremonial dress, and left his seat for Admiral Tucker's side. The admiral gestured to one of the wings, and out appeared a very familiar figure. He was elderly and moved slowly but commanded great respect from not only the audience and the cadets but from Admiral Sulu himself.

"May I introduce Admiral Leonard H McCoy," Sulu said proudly, and McCoy came over. He shared a long, meaningful glance with Sulu. McCoy was holding a medal. Engraved into the metal were Starfleet's motto _Per ardua ad astra,_ as well as Data's name." McCoy shook the android's hand and heartily congratulated him.

"Cadet Data is awarded the Starfleet Medal of Commendation. Can we please have a round of applause?"

The audience eagerly complied, not only clapping but also whooping and cheering, and Data stood by the side of the stage, next to McCoy.

"Next, can we have Cadet Charles Louis Garfield?"

Charles bit his lip and looked at his sister, who was sat next to him. Lara squeezed his hand, which was all the encouragement that he needed. He found his way to the stage, and before he knew it, he had shaken hands with one of the most highly-regarded medical professionals in the entire Federation, and maybe galaxy, Dr Leonard McCoy.

"Cadet Charles Garfield is awarded the Starfleet Decoration for Gallantry," Sulu announced, and Charles accepted his medal from McCoy, before going to stand next to Data.

"And now can we have Cadet Lara Elizabeth Garfield?"

Lara took a deep breath and as she made her way up the stairs to the stage, she caught sight of her parents waving at her and her brother near the back of the assembly hall. They smiled at her and she returned the smile, composing herself. Sat next to where she had been sat, she saw Jo'rek, who was no longer wearing his Romulan military clothes. It warmed her heart every time she saw him in his new Starfleet cadet uniform. Before she knew it, she was on the stage, had shaken hands with McCoy and had heard Admiral Tucker say, "Cadet Lara Garfield is awarded the Cochrane Medal of Excellence."

She thanked the admiral and then stood beside Charles. She, and he, knew who was next, whose name would leave Sulu's lips next. She saw that her brother had a small tear in his eye. He reached up to wipe it away before it could fall, and then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and seemed prepared.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I think that it is only fitting that we have a minute's silence in which to remember the actions of Cadet Sebastian Richards, who sadly cannot be with us today. His actions saved not only the lives of his friends and comrades, but also very likely prevented a galactic war on a scale unseen before." Admiral Sulu's words, this time, changed the tone, and it became sombre and reflective. The audience complied with his wish for some respectful silence, and then Sulu announced, "It is only fitting, therefore, that Cadet Richards, for his sacrifice, is awarded the Christopher Pike Medal of Valour. As Cadet Richards' parents have requested, his medal will be placed in his coffin."

"Now," Sulu continued. "Last and not least, it is with great pleasure that I welcome onto the stage the very first Romulan initiate into Starfleet Academy. The war between our two factions a two centuries ago was indeed fraught with despair and chaos, but that it in the past now, and this young man is a prime example of that. _Cadet_ Jo'rek, will you please come to the stage?"

Jo'rek looked at Lara, who nodded and beamed at him. Admiral McCoy shook the Romulan's hand and thanked him. Jo'rek looked rather bewildered but Sulu put him at ease.

"This young man, ladies and gentlemen, will be talked of in years to come. It is because of him that the Romulan way of life has been opened up to us, and as such, it is our sincere hope that there will one day be peace and understanding between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire." He paused while the audience clapped, and Jo'rek went to stand with the other cadets.

"That will be all. Thank you."

 **A/N: While it took me a long time to actually post this (it had been sitting about on my computer for four years or so), I hope to have another (Data-centric!) story out quite soon - it will be a sequel to 'Private Conflict' and will follow Gina Monroe and General Markeil, two of my OCs.**

 **According to Memory Beta, Sulu served as the United Federation of Planets' president sometime between the 2320s and the 2360s, so I decided that he would be the best choice for president here. And, chronology aside, who wouldn't want a Sulu-McCoy reunion!**

 **Live long and prosper!**


End file.
